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Old 06-13-2007, 01:26 AM   #61
Ever
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I dunno, it's not like anyone can be all that sexy or anything, well it's hard for me to find them so on a message board.

 
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Old 06-13-2007, 03:04 AM   #62
Trotskilicious
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Quote:
Originally Posted by ella
Laradelocke seems to come on a little too strong at times....
gee, ya think

 
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Old 06-13-2007, 03:07 AM   #63
Mayfuck_
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Shapan
julio's sexiest netphorians are probably all under 15 anyways
You say it like there is something wrong with it.

The great thing about being a registered sex offender is that I don't have to deal with such nonsense as having to explain why I don't vote, thanks to the state of California revoking that privilege.

 
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Old 06-13-2007, 03:28 AM   #64
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ah wayne.

 
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Old 06-13-2007, 03:31 AM   #65
undersco_red
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eight year olds dude

 
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Old 06-13-2007, 03:32 AM   #66
Trotskilicious
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he's a pederast

 
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Old 06-13-2007, 03:37 AM   #67
undersco_red
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served 6 months in chino

 
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Old 06-13-2007, 03:47 AM   #68
Trotskilicious
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what's a pederast

 
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Old 06-13-2007, 03:50 AM   #69
Luke de Spa
someone more...punk rock?
 
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THE BIG LEBOWSKI

by

Ethan Coen & Joel Coen





We are floating up a steep scrubby slope. We hear male voices
gently singing "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" and a deep, affable,
Western-accented voice--Sam Elliot's, perhaps:

VOICE-OVER
A way out west there was this fella,
fella I want to tell you about, fella
by the name of Jeff Lebowski. At
least, that was the handle his lovin'
parents gave him, but he never had
much use for it himself. This
Lebowski, he called himself the Dude.
Now, Dude, that's a name no one would
self-apply where I come from. But
then, there was a lot about the Dude
that didn't make a whole lot of sense
to me. And a lot about where he
lived, like- wise. But then again,
maybe that's why I found the place
s'durned innarestin'.

We top the rise and the smoggy vastness of Los Angeles at
twilight stretches out before us.

VOICE-OVER
They call Los Angeles the City of
Angels. I didn't find it to be that
exactly, but I'll allow as there are
some nice folks there. 'Course, I
can't say I seen London, and I never
been to France, and I ain't never
seen no queen in her damn undies as
the fella says. But I'll tell you
what, after seeing Los Angeles and
thisahere story I'm about to unfold--
wal, I guess I seen somethin' ever'
bit as stupefyin' as ya'd see in any
a those other places, and in English
too, so I can die with a smile on my
face without feelin' like the good
Lord gypped me.



INTERIOR RALPH'S

It is late, the supermarket all but deserted. We are tracking
in on a fortyish man in Bermuda shorts and sunglasses at the
dairy case. He is the Dude. His rumpled look and relaxed
manner suggest a man in whom casualness runs deep.

He is feeling quarts of milk for coldness and examining their
expiration dates.

VOICE-OVER
Now this story I'm about to unfold
took place back in the early nineties--
just about the time of our conflict
with Sad'm and the Eye-rackies. I
only mention it 'cause some- times
there's a man--I won't say a hee-ro,
'cause what's a hee-ro?--but sometimes
there's a man…...
and I'm talkin' about the Dude here--
sometimes there's a man, wal,
he's the man for his time'n place,
he fits right in there--and that's
the Dude, in Los Angeles...
...and even if he's a lazy man, and
the Dude was certainly that--quite
possibly the laziest in Los Angeles
County.

The Dude glances furtively about and then opens a quart of
milk. He sticks his nose in the spout and sniffs.


VOICE-OVER
...which would place him high in the
runnin' for laziest worldwide--but
sometimes there's a man. . . sometimes
there's a man.



CHECKOUT GIRL

She waits, arms folded.

VOICE-OVER
Wal,...

The Dude, scribbles something at
the little customer's lectern.
Milk beads his mustache.



VOICE-OVER
Lost m’train of throught here. But --


The Dude has his Ralph's Shopper's Club card to one side and
is making out a check to Ralph's for sixty-nine cents.


VOICE-OVER
—aw hell, I done innerduced him enough



The Dude, peeks over his shades at
A small black-and white TV next to
the register shows George Bush on the White House lawn with
helicopter rotors spinning behind him.


GEORGE BUSH
--- call for a collective action.
This will not stand. This will not stand!
This aggression against, uh, Kuwait.





DUDE'S HOUSE

The Dude is going up the walkway of a small Venice bungalow
court. He holds the paper sack in one hand and a small
leatherette satchel in the other. He awkwardly hugs the
grocery bag against his chest as he turns a key in his door.

INSIDE

The Dude enters and flicks on a light.

His head is grabbed from behind and tucked into an armpit.
We track with him as he is rushed through the living room,
his arm holding the satchel flailing away from his body.
Going into the bedroom the outflung satchel catches a piece
of doorframe and wallboard and rips through it, leaving a
hole.


The Dude is propelled across the bedroom and on into a small
bathroom, the satchel once again taking away a piece of
doorframe. His head is plunged into the toilet. The paper
bag hugged to his chest explodes milk as it hits the toilet
rim and the satchel pulverizes tile as it crashes to the
floor.

The Dude blows bubbles.

Hands haul the Dude out of the toilet. The Dude blubbers and
gasps for air.


VOICE
Where's the money, Lebowski!


His head is plunged back into the toilet.


VOICE
We want that money, Lebowski. Bunny
said you were good for it.


Hands haul the Dude out of the toilet again.


VOICE
Where's the money, Lebowski!

His head is plunged back into the toilet.


VOICE
Where's the money, Lebowski!

The hands haul him out again, dripping and gasping.

VOICE
WHERE'S THE FUCKING MONEY, SHITHEAD!

DUDE
It's uh, it's down there somewhere.
Lemme take another look.

His head is plunged back in.

VOICE
Don't fuck with us.

The inquisitor hauls the Dude's head out one last time and
flops him over so that he sits on the floor, back against
the toilet.

VOICE
Your wife owes money to Jackie Treehorn, that
means you owe money to Jackie
Treehorn.



Looming over him is a strapping blond man.

Beyond in the living room a young Chinese man unzips his fly
and walks over to a rug.

CHINESE MAN
Ever thus to deadbeats, Lebowski.




He starts peeing on the rug.


DUDE
Oh, no. Don't do tha—
Not on the rug, man.

BLOND MAN
See, You see what happens, Lebowski?
You see what happens?


DUDE
Nobody calls me Lebowski. You
got the wrong guy. I'm the Dude,
man.

BLOND MAN
Your name is Lebowski, Lebowski.
Your wife is Bunny.

DUDE
Muh muh Wi-- my wife? Bunny?

He holds up his hand.

DUDE
You see a wedding ring on my finger? Does this
place look like I'm fucking married?
The toilet seat's up man!

The blond man stoops to unzip the satchel. He pulls out a
bowling ball and examines it in the manner of a superstitious
native.

The Dude gropes back in the toilet with one hand.
The Dude's hand comes out of the toilet bowl with his
Sunglasses and puts on his dripping sunglasses.


BLOND MAN
What the fuck is this?


DUDE
Obviously you're not a golfer.

The blond man drops the ball which pulverizes the tile.

BLOND MAN
Woo?

The Chinese man is zipping his fly.

WOO
Yeah?

BLOND MAN
Isn't this guy supposed to be a
millionaire?


They both look around.

WOO
Fuck.

BLOND MAN
Yeah, what do you think?

WOO
He looks like a fuckin' loser.

The Dude pulls his sunglasses down his nose with one finger
and peeks over them.

DUDE
Hey. At least I'm housebroken.

The two men look at each other. They turn to leave.

WOO
Fuckin' time waste.

The blond man turns testily at the door.

BLOND MAN
Thanks a lot, asshole.

ON THE DOOR SLAM WE CUT TO:

BOWLING PINS

Scattered by a strike.

Music and head credits play over various bowling shots--pins
flying, bowlers hoisting balls, balls gliding down lanes,
sliding feet, graceful releases, ball return spinning up a
ball, fingers sliding into fingerholes, etc.


The music turns into boomy source music, coming from a distant
jukebox, as the credits end over a clattering strike.

A man with black hair, wearing a bowling shirt
turns from the strike to walk back to the bench.

MAN
Wahooo, I'm throwin' rocks tonight.
Mark it, Dude.

We are tracking in on the circular bench towards a big man
nursing a large plastic cup of Beer. He has dark worried
eyes and a goatee. Hairy legs emerge from his blue jean shorts.
He also wears a khaki army surplus vest over a black shirt.

WALTER
This was a valued rug.


This is Walter. He taps a cigarette as he
addresses the Dude.

The Dude, is digging in his bag to remove his bowling ball.


Walter clears his throat.

Donny, the strike-scoring bowler, enters and sits next Walter.


WALTER
This was, uh--

DUDE
Yeah man, it really tied the room
together--

WALTER
This was a valued, uh.


DUDE
Yeah...

DONNY
What tied the room together, Dude?

DUDE
My rug.

WALTER
Were you listening to the story,
Donny?

DONNY
What—

DUDE
Walter…..


WALTER
Were you listening to the Dude's
story?

DONNY
I was bowling--

WALTER
So you have no frame of reference,
here Donny. You're like a child who
wanders in -

DUDE
Walter…..


WALTER
- in the middle of a movie
and wants to--

DUDE
Walter, walter, what's the point man?

WALTER
There's no fucking reason--here's my
point, Dude--there's no fucking reason
why these-–

DONNY
Yeah Walter, what's your point?

WALTER
Huh?

DUDE
Walter, what's the point. Look--we all know who
was at fault here, what the fuck are
you talking about?

WALTER
Huh? No! What the fuck are you
--I'm not--we're talking about
unchecked aggression here dude.

DONNY
What the fuck is he talking about?

DUDE
My rug.

WALTER
Forget it, Donny. You're out of
your element.

DUDE
Walter, the Chinaman who peed on my rug, I
can't go give him a bill, so what the
fuck are you talking about?

WALTER
What the fuck are you talking about?!
The Chinaman is not the issue here dude!
I'm talking about drawing a line in the
sand, Dude. Across this line you do
not,-- also, Dude, Chinaman is
not the preferred nomenclature, uh,
Asian-American, Please.

DUDE
Walter, this isn't a guy who built
the rail- roads, here, this is a guy --

WALTER
What the fuck are you talk--

DUDE
Walter, he peed on my rug.

DONNY
He peed on the Dude's rug.

WALTER
DONNIE YOU'RE OUT OF YOUR ELEMENT! Dude
the Chinaman is not the issue here.

DUDE
So who, who--

WALTER
Jeff Lebowski. The other
Jeffrey Lebowski. The millionaire.

DUDE
That's fucking interesting man,
that's fucking interesting...


WALTER
Plus, he has the wealth, obviously,
and the resources, uh, so that there is no
reason, there's no FUCKING reason, why
his wife should go out and owe money all
over town, and then they come and they
pee on your fucking rug! Am I wrong?

DUDE
No...

WALTER
Am I wrong!

DUDE
Yeah, but--

WALTER
Okay then. uh,

He elaborately clears his throat.

That rug really tied the room together, did it not?

DUDE
Fuckin' A.

DONNY
And this guy peed on it.

WALTER
Donny, Please.

DUDE
You know, this is the fuckin' guy...
I could find this Lebowski guy.

DONNY
His name is Lebowski? That's your
name, Dude!

DUDE
This is the guy, who should
compensate me for the fucking rug.
His wife goes out and owes money
all over town, and they pee on my rug?

WALTER
They pee on your fucking Rug?

DUDE
They peed on my fucking rug.

WALTER
Thaaat's right Dude; they peed on
your fucking Rug.


CLOSE ON A PLAQUE

We pull back from the name JEFFREY LEBOWSKI engraved in silver
to reveal that the plaque, from Variety Clubs International,
honors Lebowski as ACHIEVER OF THE YEAR.

Reflected in the plaque we see the Dude entering the room
with a YOUNG MAN. We hear the two men talk:

YOUNG MAN
This is the study. As you can see
the various commendations, awards,

DUDE
Jeffery Lebowski...

YOUNG MAN
citations, honorary degrees, et cetera.

DUDE
Hmm, very impressive.

YOUNG MAN
Please, feel free to inspect them.

DUDE
Hum? Oh, I'm not that-- really, uh.

YOUNG MAN
Oh, Please! Please!


We are panning the walls, looking at various citations and
certificates unrelated to the ones being discussed offscreen:

YOUNG MAN
That's the key to the city of
Pasadena, which Mr. Lebowski received
two years ago in recognition of his
various civic, uh... Oh,
That's a Los Angeles Chamber of
Commerce Business Achiever award,
which is given--oh not necessarily given
every year!

DUDE
Hey, is this uh..?

YOUNG MAN
Given only when there's a worthy,

DUDE
is this ...?

YOUNG MAN
somebody--

DUDE
Is this him with Nancy?

YOUNG MAN
Yes indeed, that is Mr. Lebowski with the
first lady, yes. It was taken when Mrs. Reagan--

DUDE
That's uh, Lebowski on the left there?

YOUNG MAN
Yeah Of course, Mr. Lebowski on the left...

DUDE
So he's a crip...you know a, a...

YOUNG MAN
uh, ahmmm...

DUDE
Handicapped, kinda guy?

YOUNG MAN
Mr. Lebowski is disabled, yes.
This picture was taken when Mrs.
Reagan was first lady of the nation,
yes, yes? Not of California.


The dude points to a man in a photo with Jeffery Lewbowski.

DUDE
Chuck.

YOUNG MAN
In fact he met privately with
the President, though unfortunately
there wasn't time for a photo
opportunity.

DUDE
Oh, Nancy's pretty good.

YOUNG MAN
Oh, Wonderful woman. We were very happy to--

DUDE
Uh...these are, uh?

YOUNG MAN
Uh those are Mr. Lebowski's children,
so to speak--

DUDE
Different mothers, huh?

YOUNG MAN
No, they're not--

DUDE
So, racially he's pretty cool--

YOUNG MAN
Aha ha ha uh, they're
not literally his children; they're
the Little Lebowski Urban Achievers,
inner-city children of promise but
without the necessary means for a
necessary means, for a higher
education, so Mr. Lebowski has
committed to sending all of them
to college.

The young man removes the Dude's finger from one of the plaques.


Excuse me. Thank you, thank you.


DUDE
Far out. Think he's got room for one
more?

YOUNG MAN
One uh--oh! Heh-heh. You never went
to college.

The Dude's finger goes back to the plaque.

YOUNG MAN
Please, uh, don't touch that.

DUDE
Oh yeah, yeah, no I did, but uh, You know
I spent most of my time uh, occupying various,
administration buildings uh--

YOUNG MAN
Um Hmmm.

DUDE
--smoking a lot of thai-stick, breaking into
the ROTC--

YOUNG MAN
AHa hahahahahaha Yes, --

DUDE
--and bowling. I'll tell you the
truth, Brandt, I don't remember most
of it.

Our continuing track and pan have brought us onto a framed,
Man of the year, Time Magazine cover which in the lower right corner
says, ARE YOU A LEBOWSKI ACHIEVER? Oddly, the Dude's face is on it;
we realize that the display is mirrored.

DUDE
Hmmm.


We hear the door open and the whine of a motor. The Dude,
wearing shorts and an open hooded sweat shirt, turns to look.

So does Brandt, the young man we've been listening to. He
wears a suit and has his hands clasped in front of his groin.

Entering the room is a fat sixtyish man in a motorized
wheelchair--Jeff Lebowski.

LEBOWSKI
Okay sir, you're a Lebowski, I'm a
Lebowski, that's terrific, but I'm very
busy, as I can imagine you are. What
can I do for you sir?

He wheels himself behind a desk. The Dude sits facing him
as Brandt withdraws.

DUDE
Uh, well sir, it's, uh, this rug I have, it really
tied the room together-uh--

LEBOWSKI

You told Brandt on the phone, he
told me. Where do I fit in?

DUDE
Well, uh, they were--they were looking for you, these
two guys, uh you know they--

LEBOWSKI
I'll say it again, you told
Brandt on the phone. He told me.
I know what happened. Yes? Yes?


DUDE
Oh, so you know they were trying to piss
on your rug?

LEBOWSKI
Did I urinate on your rug?

DUDE
You mean, did you personally come
and pee on my rug?

LEBOWSKI
Hello! Do you speak English son? Parla
usted Inglese? I'll say it again.
Did I urinate on your rug?

DUDE
No, like I said, Woo, peed on my rug.


LEBOWSKI

I just want to understand this sir,
every time a rug is micturated upon
in this fair city, I have to
compensate the person?

DUDE
Come on, man, I'm not trying to scam
anybody here, uh, you know, I'm just--uh

LEBOWSKI
You're just looking for a handout
like every other--are you employed,
Mr. Lebowski?

DUDE
Huh? wait wait, let me, let me explain
something to you. Uh, I am not Mr. Lebowski;
you're Mr. Lebowski. I'm the Dude. So that's
what you call me. You know, uh, That, or uh,
his Dudeness, or uh Duder, or uh El Duderino, if,
you know, you're not into the whole
brevity thing--uh.

LEBOWSKI
Are you employed, sir?

DUDE
Employed? ah ha...

LEBOWSKI
You don't go out looking for a job
dressed like that do ya? On a weekday?

DUDE
Is this a--what day is this?

LEBOWSKI
Well I do work sir, so if you don't mind--

DUDE
Yeah, I do mind. The Dude minds.
This will not stand, ya know, this agression
will not stand, man. I mean, your wife owes money--

The Big Lebowski slams his fist down on the desk.

LEBOWSKI
My wife, is not the issue here! I
hope that someday my wife will learn
to live on her allowance, which is
ample, but if she does not, that
is her problem, not mine, just
as your rug is your problem, just as

The dude puts on his sunglasses

every bum's lot in life is his own
responsibility regardless of whom he
chooses to blame. I didn't blame
anyone for the loss of my legs, some
chinaman took them from me in Korea
but I went out and achieved anyway.
I cannot solve your problems, sir,
only you can.


DUDE
Ah fuck it.

LEBOWSKI
Oh, Fuck it! Yes, that's your answer!
That's your answer to everything!
Tattoo it on your forehead!

The Dude gets up out of the chair

LEBOWSKI
Your "revolution" is over, Mr.
Lebowski! Condolences! The bums
lost!

As the Dude is heading for the door. Then opens the door.

LEBOWSKI
...My advice to you is, to do what your parents
did! Get a job, sir! The bums will always lose--
do you hear me, Lebowski?

The Dude shuts the door on the old man's bellowing


LEBOWSKI
(muffled) THE BUMS WILL ALWAYS LOSE!


HALLWAY
--in a high coffered hallway. Brandt
is approaching.

BRANDT
How was your meeting, Mr. Lebowski?

DUDE
Okay. The old man told me to take
any rug in the house.

WALKWAY

A houseman with a rolled-up carpet on one shoulder goes down
a stone walk that winds through the back lawn, past a swimming
pool with Brandt and the Dude in front of him.


BRANDT
Well, enjoy, and perhaps we'll see
you again some time, Dude.

DUDE
Yeah sure, uh,


DUDE'S POINT OF VIEW

Tracking toward the pool. A young woman sits facing it, her
back to us, leaning forward to paint her toenails.


DUDE
...if I'm in the
neighborhood, you know,
and uh, I need to use the john.

CLOSER TRACK

Arcing around the woman's foot as she finishes painting the
nails emerald green.

THE DUDE

Looking.

WIDER

The young woman looks up at him. She is in her early
twenties.

She leans back and extends her leg toward the Dude.

YOUNG WOMAN
Blow on them.

The Dude pulls his sunglasses down his nose and peeks over
them.

DUDE
Huh?

She waggles her foot and giggles.

YOUNG WOMAN
G'ahead. Blow.

The Dude tentatively grabs hold of her extended foot.

DUDE
You want me to blow on your uh, toes?

YOUNG WOMAN
Uh-huh, heh heh . . I can't blow that far.

The Dude looks over at the pool.
A man in shorts floats in a dipped foam chair in the
pool.

DUDE
You sure he won't mind?

The man bobbing in the foam chair is passed out. He
is thin, in his thirties, with stringy blond hair.
One arm trails off into the water; next to it, an empty
whiskey bottle bobs.

YOUNG WOMAN
Uli doesn't care about anything.
He's a nihilist.

DUDE
Ah, that must be exhausting.


YOUNG WOMAN
You're not blowing.


BRANDT
Our guest has to be getting along,
Mrs. Lebowski.


DUDE
Ahhh, you're Bunny.


BUNNY
I'll suck your cock for a thousand
dollars.

Brandt releases a gale of forced laughter:

BRANDT
Ha-ha-ha-ha! Wonderful woman.
We're all very fond of her.
Very free-spirited.

BUNNY
Brandt can't watch though. Or he
has to pay a hundred.

BRANDT
Aha-ha-ha-ha! That's marvelous.

Brandt nervously takes the Dude by the elbow.
The Dude grudgingly allows himself to be led away, still
looking at the young woman back over his shoulder.

DUDE
Uhhhh...I'm just gonna go find a cash machine.


BOWLING PINS

Scattered by a strike.

THE BOWLERS

Donny backs away from the line, turns and walks back.

DONNY
Wahooo...I'm slammin' 'em tonight
You guys are dead in the water!!

As the Donny walks back to the scoring table he points to
another team in black bowling shirts--the Cavaliers--that
shares the lane.

Walter, just arriving, is carrying a leatherette satchel in
one hand and a large plastic carrier in the other.

WALTER
Alright! Way to go, Donny! If you will it, it
is no dream.

DUDE
You're fucking twenty minutes late, man.
What the fuck is that?

WALTER
Theodore Herzel.

DUDE
Huh?

WALTER
State of Israel. If you will it,
Dude, it is no dream.

DUDE
What the fuck're you talking about man?
The carrier. What's in the fucking
carrier?

WALTER
Huh? Oh!--Cynthia's dog.
I think it's a Pomeranian.
I Can't leave him home alone or he
eats the furniture. I'm watching it while
Cynthia and Marty Ackerman are in Hawaii.

DUDE
You brought a fucking Pomeranian
bowling?

WALTER
What do you mean "brought it bowling"?
I didn't rent it shoes. I'm not
buying it a fucking beer. He's not
taking you're fucking turn, Dude.

He lets the small yapping dog out of the carrier. It scoots
around the bowling table, sniffing at bowlers and wagging
its tail.

DUDE
Man, if my fucking ex-wife asked
me to take care of her fucking dog
while she and her boyfriend went to
Honolulu, I'd tell her to go fuck
herself. Why can't she board it?

WALTER
First of all, Dude, you don't have
an ex, secondly, this is a fucking show
dog with fucking papers. You can't
board it. It gets upset, its hair
falls out.

DUDE
Hey man, Walter, you know--

WALTER
Fucking dog has fucking papers,
--Over the line!

Smokey turns from his last roll to look at Walter.

SMOKEY
Huh?

WALTER
I'm sorry Smokey, You were
over the line, that's a foul.

SMOKEY
Bullshit. Mark it eight Dude.

WALTER
Excuse me! Mark it zero. Next frame.

SMOKEY
Bullshit. Walter! Mark it eight dude.

WALTER
Smokey, this is not Nam. This is bowling.
There are rules.

DUDE
Hey Walter come on, it's just--hey man
it's Smokey. So his toe slipped over a
little, you know, it's just a game, man.

WALTER
This is a league game. This
determines who enters the next round-
robin, am I wrong?

SMOKEY
Yeah, but I wasn't--

WALTER
Am I wrong!?

SMOKEY
Yeah, but I wasn't over. Gimme the
marker, Dude, I'm marking it an
eight.

Walter takes out a gun.

WALTER
Smokey my friend, you're entering a
world of pain.

DUDE
Walter--man--

WALTER
You mark that frame an eight, you're
entering a world of pain.

SMOKEY
I'm not--

WALTER
A world of pain.

SMOKEY
Look Dude, I ... this
is your partner--

WALTER
HAS THE WHOLE WORLD GONE CRAZY? AM
I THE ONLY ONE HERE WHO GIVES A SHIT
ABOUT THE RULES? MARK IT ZERO!

The Pomeranian is excitedly yapping at Walter's knee, making
high body-twisting tail-wagging leaps.

DUDE
They're calling the cops, man,
put the piece away.

Walter points it at Smokey's head.

WALTER
MARK IT ZERO!

DUDE
Walter put the piece away.

SMOKEY
Walter--

WALTER
YOU THINK I'M FUCKING AROUND HERE?

Walter primes the gun.

MARK IT ZERO!!

SMOKEY
All right!! It's fucking zero!
You happy, you crazy fuck?

WALTER
It's a league game, Smokey!


PARKING LOT

Walter and the Dude walk to the Dude's car. The 'Pomeranian'

trots happily behind Walter who totes the empty carrier.

DUDE
You can't do that man. These guys, you
know, they're like me, they're pacificists.
Smokey was a conscientious objector.

WALTER
You know Dude, I myself dabbled with
pacifism at one point. Not in Nam,
of course--

DUDE
And you know he's got emotional
problems man!

WALTER
You mean--beyond pacifism?

DUDE
He's fragile, very fragile!

As the two men get into the car:

WALTER
Huh. I did not know that. Well,
it's all water under the bridge. And we
do enter the next round-robin, am I
wrong?

DUDE
No, you're not wrong--

WALTER
Am I wrong!

DUDE
You're not wrong, Walter, you're
just an asshole.

WALTER
Okay then. We play Quintana and
O'Brien next week. They should be
pushovers.

They watch a squad car take a squealing turn into the lot.

DUDE
Man, willya just, just take it easy, man.

WALTER
You know, that's your answer for everything,
Dude. And let me point out something--pacifism
is not--look at our current situation
with that camelfucker in Iraq--
pacifism is not something to hide
behind.

DUDE
Just take it easy, man.

WALTER
I'm perfectly calm, Dude.

DUDE
Yeah? Wavin' the fuckin' gun around?!

WALTER
(smugly)
Calmer than you are.

This irritates the Dude further.

DUDE
Will you just take it easy?

Walter is still smug.

WALTER
Calmer than you are.



DUDE'S HOUSE

A large, brilliant Persian rug lies in front of the Dude's beat-
up old furniture.

A beep.

VOICE
Dude, this is Smokey. Look, I don't
wanna be a hard-on about this, and I
know it wasn't your fault, but I
just thought it was fair to tell you
that Gilbert and I will be submitting
this to the League and asking them
to set aside the round, I don't know,
or maybe, forfeit it to us--
so, like I say, just thought, you
know, fair warning. Tell Walter.
I'm sorry.

Beep.

At the bar next to the answering machine the Dude is mixing
kahlua, vodka and milk.

ANOTHER VOICE
Mr. Lebowski, this is Brandt at, uh,
well--at Mr. Lebowski's office.
Please call us as soon as is
convenient.

Beep.

ANOTHER VOICE
Mr. Lebowski, this is Bell Salnicker
with the Southern Cal Bowling League,
and I just got a, an informal report,
that a member of your team,
uh, Walter Sobchak, drew a firearm
during league play. If this is true
of course, it contraviens a number of
the league's by-laws, and article 27
of the league...

We hear a knock at the door.

THE DOOR

It swings open to reveal a short, hairy, muscular but balding
middle-aged man in a blue T-shirt and beige shorts.

MAN
Dude.

DUDE
Hey Marty.

MARTY
Dude, I, I finally, I got the uh, venue I
wanted. Uh, I'm Performing my dance
quintet--you know, my cycle--at Crane
Jackson's Fountain Street Theatre on
Tuesday night, and well I'd love it if
you came and gave me notes.

The Dude takes a swig of his drink.

DUDE
I'll be there man.

MARTY
Uh, Dude, uh, tomorrow's already the
tenth.

DUDE
Far out. Oh, oh, alright, okay.

MARTY
Just, uh, just slip the rent under
my door.


BACK IN THE LIVING ROOM

The voice continues on the machine.

VOICE
--serious infraction, and examine
your standing. Thank you. Beep.

VOICE
Mr. Lebowski, Brandt again. Please
do call us as soon as you get in and I'll
send the limo. I hope you're not avoiding
this call because of the rug, ha ha, which,
I assure you, is not a problem. We need your
help and, uh--well we would very
much like to see you. Thank you.
It's Brandt.

TRACKING

We are pushing Brandt down the high-ceilinged hallway.
Distantly, we hear a dolorous soprano. Brandt talks back
over


HIS SHOULDER:

BRANDT
We've had some terrible news. Mr.
Lebowski is in seclusion in the West
Wing.


Brandt throws open a pair of heavy double doors.

BRANDT ANNOUNCES, AMBIGUOUSLY:

BRANDT
Mr. Lebowski.

The music washes over us as we enter a great study where Jeffrey
Lebowski, a blanket thrown over his knees, stares hauntedly
into a fire, listening to Lohengrin..

LEBOWSKI
Funny-- I can look back on a
life of achievement, on challenges
met, competitors bested, obstacles
overcome. I've accomplished more
than most men, and without the use
of my legs. What. . . What makes a
man, Mr. Lebowski?

DUDE
Dude.

LEBOWSKI
Huh?

DUDE
Uh, I, I don't know, sir.

LEBOWSKI
Is it being prepared to
do the right thing? Whatever the
cost? Isn't that what makes a man?

DUDE
Ummm..sure. That and a pair of testicles.

Lebowski is turned away from the Dude with a haunted stare, lost
in thought.

LEBOWSKI
You're joking. But perhaps you're
right.

The Dude pulls a 'Jay' out of his pants pocket.

DUDE
You mind if I do a jay?

LEBOWSKI
Bunny.

The firelight shows teartracks on his cheeks.

DUDE
'Scuse me?

LEBOWSKI
Bunny Lebowski. . . She is the light
of my life. Are you surprised at my
tears, sir?

DUDE
Oh, fuckin' A.

LEBOWSKI
Strong men also cry. . . Strong men
also cry.

He clears his throat.

LEBOWSKI
I received this fax this morning.

Brandt hastily pulls a flimsy sheet from his clipboard and
hands it to the Dude.

LEBOWSKI
As you can see, it is a ransom note.

THE DUDE EXAMINES THE FAX:

WE HAVE BUNNY.

Written by men who are unable
to achieve on a level field of play.

GATHER ONE MILLION DOLLARS

Cowards!

IN UNMARKED NON-CONSECUTIVE TWENTIES.

Weaklings.

AWAIT INSTRUCTIONS

Bums.

NO FUNNY STUFF.

DUDE
Bummer.

LEBOWSKI
Huh?
DUDE
This is a bummer man. That's a,
that's a bummer.

LEBOWSKI
Brandt will fill you in on the
details.

The Big Lebowski gazes into the fire.
Brandt tugs at the Dude's shirt and points him back to the
hall.

HALLWAY

The soprano's singing is once again faint. Brandt's voice
is hushed:

BRANDT
Mr. Lebowski is prepared to make a
generous offer to you to act as
courier once we get instructions for
the money.

DUDE
Why me, man?

BRANDT
He believes that the culprits might
be the very people who, uh, soiled
your rug, and you're in a unique
position to confirm or, disconfirm
that suspicion.

DUDE
He thinks the carpet-pissers did this?


BRANDT
Well Dude, we just don't know.

BOWLING PINS

Music-Spanish version of 'Hotel california' slow motion.

WIDER

Still in slow motion. We are looking at a tall, thin, Hispanic bowler
He wears an all-in-one dacron-polyester stretch, violet
bowling outfit with a racing stripe down each side.
He has a pink bowling ball which he is holding in front of his face
and he licks the ball. He lowers the ball on his back swing.
Stitched above the breast pocket of his all-in-one is his
first name, "Jesus".
He rolls the pink ball and slams the pins. He turns and to the music,
does a bravado dance and a strut back to the seat taughting the
competition..

QUINTANA

Wheeling and thrusting a black gloved single finger into the air.



FAST TRACK IN

On the Dude, sitting next to Walter in the molded plastic
chairs. The Dude is staring off towards the bowler.

DUDE
Fucking Quintana--that creep can
roll, man--

WALTER
Yeah, but he's a fucking pervert,
Dude.

DUDE
Yeah?

WALTER
No. He's a sex offender. With a
record. He did six months in Chino
for exposing himself to an eight-
year-old.

FLASHBACK

We see Quintana, in pressed jeans and a stretchy sweater,
walking up a stoop in a residential neighborhood and ringing
the bell.

The VOICE-OVER conversation continues.

DUDE
Huh.

WALTER
When he moved down to Hollywood he had
to go door-to-door to tell everyone
he was a pederast.

The door swings open and a beer-swilling middle-aged man
looks dully out at Quintana, who looks hesitantly up.

DONNY
What's a pederast, Walter?

WALTER
Shut the fuck up, Donny.

BACK TO WALTER AND THE DUDE

WALTER
So. How much they give you?

DUDE
Twenty grand, man. And of course I still
keep the rug.

WALTER
Just for making the hand-off?

DUDE
Yeah.

He slips a little black box out of his shorts pocket,
and turns it on.

DUDE
...They gave uh, Dude a beeper, so
whenever these guys call--

WALTER
What if it's during a game?

DUDE
Oh, I told him if it was during league
play--

Donny has been watching Quintana.

DONNY
What's during league play?

DUDE
uh, ya know

WALTER
Life does not stop and start
at your convenience,

DUDE
I uh,

WALTER
you miserable piece of
shit.

DUDE
I, I figure uh,

DONNY
What's wrong with Walter, Dude?

DUDE
I figure it's easy money, ya know, it's all
pretty harmless. She probably
kidnapped herself.

WALTER
Huh?

DUDE
Aww...

DONNY
What do you mean, Dude?

DUDE
Rug-peers did not do this.
Look at it. Young trophy wife.
Marries this guy for money, she figures
he isn't giving her enough. Ya know, She
owes money all over town-- aww.

WALTER
That...fucking...bitch!

DUDE
It's all a goddamn fake man. It's like Lenin
said, you look for the person who will
benefit. And uh,uh, you know, uh,

DONNIE
I am the Walrus.

you know
you'll, uh, uh, you know what I'm trying
to say--

DONNY
I am the Walrus.

WALTER
That fucking bitch!

DUDE
Yeah.

DONNY
I am the Walrus.

WALTER
That's ex-- Shut the fuck up, Donny! V.I. Lenin!
Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov!

DONNY
What the fuck is he talking about?

WALTER
Fucking exactly what happened. Those--

We see Quintana and his partner vigorusly shining their bowling balls.

DUDE
Hell yeah.


That makes me fucking SICK!

DUDE
Well, what do you care, Walter?

WALTER
Those rich fucks! This whole fucking
thing-- I did not watch my buddies
die face down in the muck so that
this fucking strumpet--

DUDE
Walter,

WALTER
This fuckin' whore...

DUDE
I don't see any--

WALTER
...can waltz around town...

DUDE
- connection with Vietnam, man.


WALTER
Well, there isn't a literal
connection, Dude.

DUDE
Walter, face it, there isn't any
connection. Your roll.

WALTER
Have it your way, but my point is--

DUDE
Your roll--

WALTER
My point is--

DUDE
Your roll.

VOICE
Are you ready to be fucked, man?

They both look up.

Quintana, on his way out, looks down at them from the lip of
the lanes. Over his polyester all-in-one he now wears a
windbreaker with a racing stripe and "Jesus" stitched on the
breast. He is holding a fancy black-and-red leather ball
satchel (perhaps a Sylvia Wein). Behind him stands his
partner, Liam, a short fat Irishman with tufted brown hair.

QUINTANA
I see you rolled your way into the
semis. Dios mio, man. Liam and
me, we're gonna fuck you up.

DUDE
Yeah well, ya know, that's just,
like uh, your opinion, man.

Quintana looks at Walter.

QUINTANA
Let me tell you something, pendejo.
You pull any your crazy shit with
us, you flash a piece out on the
lanes, I'll take it away from you
and stick it up your ass and pull
the fucking trigger till it goes
"click".

DUDE
Jesus.

QUINTANA
You said it, man. Nobody fucks with
the Jesus.

Jesus walks away. Walter turns his head toward the Dude.

WALTER
Eight-year-olds, Dude.

DUDE'S BUNGALOW

We are looking down at the Dude who is prone on the rug.
His eyes are closed. He wears a Walkman headset. Leaking
tinnily through the headphones we can just hear an
intermittent clatter.

On the rug lies a cassette case labeled A: VENICE
BEACH LEAGUE PLAYOFFS 1987. B: Bob

The Dude absently licks his lips as we faintly hear a ball
rumbling down the lane. On its impact with the pins, the
Dude opens his eyes.

A redhead woman looms over him. Next to her a young man
in paint-spattered denims stoops and swings his fist at the
Dude's head.

The sap catches the Dude on the chin and sends his head
thunking back onto the rug.

Fireworks explode against a field of black. We hear
the "La-la-la-la" of 'The Man in Me'.

The black field dissolves into the pattern of the rug.
The rug rolls away to reveal an aerial view of the city of
Los Angeles at twilight, moving below us at great speed.

The Dude is flying over the city, his arms thrown out in
front of him, the wind whipping his hair and billowing his
bowling shirt. He looks up.

Ahead the mysterious redhead woman wings away, riding on the
Dude's rug like a sheik on a magic carpet. She is outpacing
us, growing smaller.

The Dude does a couple of lazy breast strokes and then notices
that a bowling ball has materialized in his forward hand.
His bemusement turns to concern over the aerodynamic
implications just as the ball seems to suddenly assume its
weight, abruptly snapping his arm down, and him after it. He
is falling. From a high angle we see the Dude hurtling down
toward the city, dragged by the ball.

A reverse looking up shows the Dude hurtling toward us
out of the inky sky, his eyes wide with horror. Led by
the bowling ball, he zooms past the camera leaving us in
black.

We hear a distant rumble, like thunder. Dull reflections
materialize in the darkness. They are glints off the shiny
surface of an oncoming bowling ball.

We pull back to reveal that the blackness was the inside of
a ball return, and the gleaming bowling ball is being
regurgitated up at us, overtaking us.

The Dude looks up, up, up at the looming ball, its mass
rolling a huge shadow across his face.

The gleaming ball shows three dead black holes rolling toward
us --finger holes.

The largest--thumb--hole rolls directly over us, engulfing
us once again in black..

The black rolls away and we are spinning--spinning down a
bowling lane--our point of view that of someone trapped in
the thumbhole of the rolling ball.

We see the receding bowler spinning away. It is the redhead
woman, performing her follow-through.

Floor spins up at us and then away; ceiling spins up and
away; the length of the alley with pins at the end; floor;
ceiling; approaching pins; again and again.

We hit the pins and clatter into blackness. We hear pins
spin, hit each other and drop.

We hear an irritating, insistent beeping along with the song
'The Man in Me'.

FADE IN

We are close on the Dude, upside down. As the picture fades
'The Man in Me' continues, but filtered and faint.
They come from the Dude's Walkman, the headset of which is
now askew, with one arm off his ear.

As the Dude opens his eyes we spiral slowly upward to put
him right side around. His head is now resting against
hardwood floor, not rug.

DUDE
Aaaah...Oh man. Ohhhh...Awwww...

He raises falls back to the bare floor.
The rug is gone.
The beeper on the zipper of his hooded sweat shirt is
blinking red in sync with the continuing irritating beeps.

WIDE ON THE ROOM

The beeps continue.


TRACK

We push Brandt down the familiar marble hallway.
Again there is a distant aria. Brandt throws out a
wrist to look at his watch.

BRANDT
They called about eighty minutes
ago. They want you to take the money
and drive north on the 405. They will
call you on the portable phone with
instructions in about forty minutes.
One person only, they were very clear
on that, or I'd go with you. One person
only. What happened to your jaw?

DUDE
Oh, nothin', man just ah--

They have reached the little desk outside of the big
Lebowski's office; Brandt opens the top cabinet with a key
and takes out an attache case.

BRANDT
Here's the money...

He hands this to the Dude

BRANDT
and the phone...

along with a cellular phone in a battery-pack carrying case.

BRANDT
Please, Dude, follow whatever
instructions they give.

DUDE
Alright.

BRANDT
Her life is in your hands.

DUDE
Oh, man, don't say that man..

BRANDT
Mr. Lebowski asked me to repeat that:
Her life is in your hands.

DUDE
Oh shit, man.

BRANDT
Her life is in your hands, Dude.
And report back to us as soon as
it's done.

DUDE'S CAR

We pan off the Dude, driving, to his point of view through
the front windshield. The headlights play over Walter
standing waiting in front of the storefront of SOBCHAK
SECURITY. He is wearing combat fatigues,and holds a battered
brown briefcase. He also holds an irregular shape
bundled in a news paper wrapping.

The car stops in front of him

DUDE
Where the fuck are you going, man?

WALTER
Take the ringer. I'll drive.

He opens the Dude's door and hands in the briefcase

The Dude takes the briefcase and slides over.

DUDE
The what?

WALTER
The ringer! The ringer, Dude!

The car drives off.

The Dude opens the briefcase and paws bemusedly through it.

DUDE
What the...

WALTER
Have they called yet?

DUDE
What the hell is this?

WALTER
My dirty undies dude. Laundry,
The whites.

DUDE
Walter, I'm sure there's a reason
you brought your dirty undies man.


He closes the briefcase.

WALTER
Thaaaat's right, Dude. The weight.
The ringer can't look empty.

DUDE
Walter--what the fuck are you
thinking man?

WALTER
Well you're right, Dude, I got to
thinking. I got to thinking why
should we settle for a measly fucking
twenty grand--

DUDE
We? What the fuck we? You said you
just wanted to come along--

WALTER
My point, Dude, is why should we
settle for twenty grand when we can
keep the entire million. Am I wrong?

DUDE
Yes you're wrong. This isn't a
fucking game man.

WALTER
Oh, but it is a game. You said so
yourself. She kidnapped herself.

DUDE
I said I thought--

The phone chirps. Dude grabs it.

DUDE
Dude here.

VOICE
(German accent)

Who is this?

DUDE
Dude the Bagman. Where do you want
us to go?

VOICE
Us?

DUDE
Shit. . . yeah, you know, uh, me
and the driver. I'm not uh,
handling the money and driving the
car and talking on the phone all
by my fucking--


VOICE
Shut the fuck up.

Walter looks over at the Dude and bellows:

WALTER
Dude, are you fucking this up?


VOICE
Who is that?

DUDE
That is the driver, I told you--

Click. Dial tone.

DUDE
Oh shit.

WALTER
What the fuck's going on?

DUDE
Walter!

WALTER
What the fuck is going on?

DUDE
He hung up, man! You fucked it
up! You fucked it up! Her life was
in our hands man!

WALTER
Easy, Dude.

DUDE
We're screwed now! We don't get
shit, they're gonna kill her!
We're fucked, Walter!

WALTER
Nothing is fucked Dude. Come on.
You're being very unDude. They'll
call back. Look, she kidnapped her--

The phone chirps.

WALTER
Ya see? Nothing's fucked here,
Dude. Nothing is fucked. They're
a bunch of fucking amateurs--

DUDE
But Walter, Walter will you just shut the fuck up!
Don't say peep when I'm doing business here man.

WALTER
(patronizing)
Okay Dude. Have it your way.

The Dude unclips the phone from the battery pack.

WALTER
But they're amateurs.

The Dude glares at Walter. Into the phone:

DUDE
Dude.

VOICE
Okay, vee proceed. But only if there
is no funny stuff.

DUDE
Yeah, yeah.

VOICE
So no funny stuff. Okay?

DUDE
Just tell me where the fuck you
want us to go.

A HIGHWAY SIGN: SIMI VALLEY ROAD NEXT LEFT.

It flashes by in the headlights of the roaring car.

DUDE
That was the sign man.

Walter wrestles the car onto the two-lane road.

WALTER
So, all we gotta do is get her back,
no one's in a position to complain,
and we keep the baksheesh.

DUDE
Yeah, terrific, Walter. But you haven't
told me how we're gonna get her back. Where
is she?

WALTER
That's the simple part, Dude.
We make the handoff, I grab one of 'em
and beat it out of him.

He looks at the Dude.

WALTER
...Huh?

DUDE
Yeah. That's a great plan, Walter.
That's fucking ingenious, if I
understand it correctly. That's a
Swiss fucking watch.

WALTER
Thaaat's right, Dude. The beauty of
this is its simplicity. Once a plan
gets too complex, everything can
go wrong. If there's one thing I
learned in Nam--

The phone chirps.

DUDE
Dude.

VOICE
You are coming to a vooden bridge.
When you cross the bridge you srow ze bag
from ze left vindow of ze moving
kar. You're being vatched.


Click. Dial tone.

DUDE
FUCK.

WALTER
What'd he say? Where's the hand-
off?

DUDE
There is no fucking hand-off man.
At a wooden bridge we throw the money
out of the car!

WALTER
Huh?

DUDE
We throw the money out of the moving
car!

Walter stares dumbly for a beat.

WALTER
No, we can't do that, Dude. That fucks
up our plan.

DUDE
Well call them up and explain it to
'em, Walter! Your plan is so fucking
simple, I'm sure they'll fucking
understand it! That's the beauty of it!

WALTER
Wooden bridge, huh?

DUDE
I'm throwing the money, Walter!
We're not fucking around man!

WALTER
Ok, dude the bridge is coming up! Gimme the
ringer, Chop-chop!

DUDE
Fuck that! Walter I love you, but
sooner or later you're gonna have to
face the fact that you're a goddamn
moron.

WALTER
Okay, Dude. No time to argue.

DUDE
Hey man! hey--

WALTER
Here's the bridge--

DUDE
Walter! hey--hey walter hey--

There is the bump and new steady of the car on the bridge.
The Dude is holding the money briefcase from
the back seat. Walter reaches one arm across Dude's body to
grab the laundry.

WALTER
There goes the ringer.

He flings it out the window.

DUDE
What the fuck!

WALTER
OK Dude, your wheel!

DUDE
Walter Hey, Hey what the fuck?

WALTER
At fifteen em-pee-aitch
I roll out! I double back, grab one
of 'em and beat it out of him! The
uzi!

DUDE
Uzi?

Walter grabs across the seat at the paper-wrapped bundle.

WALTER
You didn't think I was rolling out
of here naked did ya!

DUDE
Walter, Walter what the--

Walter has flung open his door and is leaning halfway out
over the road.

WALTER
Fifteen! Dude This is it! Let's
take that hill!

DUDE
Walter hey Walter--

Walter rolls out with his parcel, giving a loud grunt as he
hits the pavement. The car swerves and lurches and the Dude,
cursing, takes the wheel.

OUTSIDE

Walter tumbles onto the shoulder and--RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!--muzzle
flashes tear open the wrapping paper.

INSIDE THE CAR

The car rocks and the Dude wrestles with the wheel.

OUTSIDE

The car clunks and screams around in a skid.

INSIDE

The Dude is thrown forward as the car hits something.

OUTSIDE

As the Dude struggles up holding the satchel of money.
There is a distant engine roar. A motorcycle bumps up onto
the road from the ravine under the bridge and, tires
squealing, skids around to speed away in the opposite
direction. It is closely followed by two more roaring
motorcycles.

DUDE
Ah, ahhhh,

The front of his car is crumpled into a pole. The car body saps
back to the left, where the rear wheel has been shot out.

WALTER is just rising from the ground massaging an
injured knee.

The Dude runs up the road toward the bridge,
frantically waving the satchel in the air.

DUDE
WE HAVE IT! WE HAVE IT!! WE HAVE IT!... WE...have it.


The Dude and Walter stand in the middle of the road, watching
the three red tail lights fishtail away.

AFTER A LONG STARING SILENCE:

WALTER
Ahh fuck it dude, let's go bowling.

BOWLING LANE

WALTER.

Walter stands at the end of the lane with a cigarette in his mouth
and holding a bowling ball up in front of him. Slowly he walks
to the line and rolls.

He returns from the lane to where the Dude sits in the
molded plastic chairs. The Dude listlessly holds the portable
phone in his lap. It is ringing.

WALTER
Aitz chaim he, Dude. As the ex used
to say.

DUDE
What the fuck is that supposed to
mean? What the fuck're we gonna
tell Lebowski?

WALTER
Huh? Oh, him, uh, I don't kn..
um-- what exactly is the problem?

DUDE
Ah, the problem is--what do you
mean what's the--

The portable phone stops ringing.

DUDE
There was no--we didn't uh--
they're gonna kill that poor woman man.


WALTER
What the fuck're you talking about?
That poor woman--that poor slut--
kidnapped herself, Com'on Dude. You said
so yourself.

DUDE
Man! I said I thought she
kidnapped herself! You're the one
who's so fucking certain--

WALTER
That's right, Dude, 100 % certain--

Donny is trotting excitedly up.

DONNY
They posted the next round of the
tournament--

WALTER
Donny, shut the fu--when do we play?

DONNY
This Saturday. Quintana and--

WALTER
Saturday! Well they'll have to
reschedule.

DUDE
Walter, what'm I gonna tell Lebowski?

WALTER
I told that fuck down at the league
office-- who's in charge of
scheduling?

DUDE
Walter--

DONNY
Burkhalter.

WALTER
I told that kraut a fucking thousand
times I DON'T ROLL ON SHABBAS!

DUDE
Walter--

DONNY
He already posted it.

WALTER
WELL THEY CAN FUCKING UN-POST IT!

DUDE
WHO GIVES A SHIT! Uh, they're gonna kill
that poor woman man. What am I gonna
tell Lebowski?

WALTER
C'mon Dude, uh, eventually she'll get
sick of her little game and, you
know, wander on back--

DUDE
Yeah uh...

DONNY
How come you don't roll on Saturday,
Walter?

WALTER
I'm shomer shabbas.

DONNY
What's that, Walter?

DUDE
Yeah, and in the meantime, what do I
tell Lebowski?

WALTER
Saturday Donny, is shabbas. The Jewish
day of rest. That means I don't work,
I um, don't drive a car, I don't fucking
ride in a car, I don't handle money,
I don't turn on the oven, and I sure
as shit DON'T FUCKING ROLL!

DONNY
Sheesh.

WALTER
SHOMER SHABBAS!

DUDE
Walter, how am I going to--hows--

WALTER
Shomer fucking shabbas!

The Dude gets to his feet with the portable phone.

DUDE
Oh fuck, that, that's it. I'm out of here.

WALTER
Aw come on Dude.

Walter looks at Donny and silently mouths the words, 'What a fucking baby'.

Walter stumbles up and he and Donny join the Dude as he walks out of the bowling
alley. He rubs his leg that he hurt falling out of the car.

WALTER
Dude! Dude! ... ow, fuck, you just tell him, uh
tell him we made the drop and everything went, uh
you know--

DONNY
Oh yeah, how'd it go?

WALTER
Went alright. Dude's car got a little
dinged up--

DUDE
Walter, we didn't make the fucking
hand- off man! They didn't get, the
fucking money and they're gonna--
they're gonna--

WALTER
"They're gonna kill that poor woman."

He waves both arms as if conducting a symphony orchestra.

WALTER
They're gonna Kill that poor woman.

DONNY
Hey Walter, if you can't ride in a car,
how d'you get around on Shammas--

WALTER
Really, Dude, you surprise me.
They're not gonna kill shit. They're
not gonna do shit. What can they
do? They're a bunch of Fuckin' amateurs.
And meanwhile, look at the bottom line. Who's
sitting on a million fucking dollars?
Am I wrong?

DUDE
Walter--

WALTER
Who's got a fucking million fucking
dollars sittin' in the trunk of our
car?

DUDE
"Our" car, Walter?

WALTER
And what do they got? My dirty
undies. My fucking whites---Say,
Dude, where is your car?

The three bowlers, stopped at the edge of the lot, stare out
at an empty parking space.

DONNY
Who's got your undies, Walter?

WALTER
Where's your car, Dude?

DUDE
You don't know, Walter?

WALTER
Hmm. It was parked in a handicapped
zone. Perhaps they towed it.

DUDE
You fucking know it's been stolen!

WALTER
Well, certainly that's a possibility,
Dude--

DUDE
Aw, fuck it.

The Dude walks away across the lot. The portable phone starts
ringing again.

DONNY
Where you going, Dude?

DUDE
I'm goin' home, Donny.

DONNY
Your phone's ringing, Dude.

DUDE
Thank you, Donny.

DUDE'S LIVING ROOM

The Dude is sitting forward in his easy chair,
Facing him on the couch are two uniformed policeman,
one middle-aged, the other a fresh-faced rookie.

At the cut the portable phone, in the Dude's lap, is chirping.
The Dude waits for the rings to end. When they do:


DUDE
Uh, yeah, uh, Green. Some uh, brown,
uh or, rust, coloration.

YOUNGER COP
And was there anything of value in
the car?

DULLY:

DUDE
Oh uh, yeah. Uh, a tape deck. Some
Creedence tapes. And there was
a, uh. . .uh my briefcase.

YOUNGER COP
In the briefcase?

DUDE
Uh, uh Papers. Ya know, just papers.
Uh you know, my papers. Business papers.

The Dude reacts to the question by pushing back into the chair.

YOUNGER COP
And what do you do, sir?

DUDE
I'm unemployed.

The home phone starts ringing--a ring distinct from the
chirp of the portable. The Dude makes no move to answer it.

DUDE
My rug was also stolen.

YOUNGER COP
Your rug was in the car.

The Dude waves his hand over the floor.

DUDE
No. Here.

YOUNGER COP
Separate incidents?

The Dude looks over at the phone.

Silence.


Finally the rings stop as an answering machine kicks on.
Dude's Voice on Machine, 'The Dude's not in. Leave a message
after the beep. It takes a minute.'

DUDE
You find them much? Uh these stolen cars?



YOUNGER COP
Sometimes. I wouldn't hold out much
hope for the tape deck though.


OLDER COP
Or the Creedence.

DUDE
Well what about uhhhhhh, the briefcase?

Beep.

FEMALE VOICE ON MACHINE
Mr. Lebowski, I'd like to see you.
Call when you get home and I'll send
a car for you. My name is Maude
Lebowski. I'm the one who took
your rug.

YOUNGER COP
Well, I guess we can close the file
on that one.


TRACKING FORWARD

We are moving through the open living area of a large downtown
L.A. loft. A huge unfinished canvas, lit by standing
industrial lights, dominates the floor. The furnishings are
spare given the space.

We hear a rumble like an approaching bowling ball. The Dude,
standing in the middle of the loft, looks into the murky
depths of the cavernous space.

Something huge and white hurtles towards the Dude's head.
As it roars overhead he ducks, and spins to watch it pass.

We see the backside of a naked woman in a sling suspended
from a ceiling track rumbling over a canvas that lies on the
floor. She is holding a paint brushes in both hands
with which she flicks paint down at the canvas.


Two young men in paint-spattered shorts, T-shirts and sneakers
reach the sling shortly after it reaches the end of its track
and slowly lower the woman to the floor.


VOICE
I'll be with you in a moment, Mr.
Lebowski.


The two men help Maude out of her sling. She is naked
except for leather harness straps which ring her breasts
and wrap her thighs and give her something of a dominatrix
look.

MAUDE
Does the female form make you
uncomfor- table, Mr. Lebowski?

DUDE
Uh, is that what this is a picture of?

MAUDE
In a sense, yes.
My art has been commended as being
strongly vaginal. Which bothers
some men. The word itself makes
some men uncomfortable. Vagina.

DUDE
Oh yeah?

MAUDE
Yes, they don't like hearing it and
find it difficult to say. Whereas
without batting an eye a man will
refer to his "dick" or his "rod" or
his "Johnson".

DUDE
"Johnson"?

MAUDE
All right, Mr. Lebowski, let's get down to cases. My father
told me he's agreed to let you have the rug, but it was a
gift from me to my late mother, and so was not his to give.
Now.

She hands the dude a cloth.

Your face... As for this "kidnapping"--

DUDE
Huh?

MAUDE
Yes, I know about it. And I know
that you acted as courier. And let
me tell you something: the whole
thing stinks to high heaven.

DUDE
Yeah, right, but, but let me explain
something about that rug--

MAUDE
Do you like sex, Mr. Lebowski?

DUDE
Excuse me?

MAUDE
Sex. The physical act of love.
Coitus. Do you like it?

DUDE
I was talking about my rug.

MAUDE
You're not interested in sex?

DUDE
You mean coitus?

MAUDE
I like it too. It's a male myth
about feminists that we hate sex.
It can be a natural, zesty enterprise.
However there are some people--
it is called satyriasis in men,
nymphomania in women--who engage
in it compulsively and without joy.

DUDE
Oh, no.

MAUDE
Oh yes Mr. Lebowski, these unfortunate
souls cannot love in the true sense
of the word. Our mutual acquaintance
Bunny is one of these.

DUDE
Listen, Maude uh, I'm sorry if your
stepmother is a nympho, but uh, I don't
see what this has to do with uh--do you
have any kahlua?

MAUDE
Take a look at this, sir.

DUDE
Hmm?


She is aiming a remote at a projection TV. The screen
flickers to life. A title card:

JACKIE TREEHORN PRESENTS

Uli is driving a car.

DUDE
Oh, I know that guy. He's a
nihilist.

SECOND CARD:

KARL HUNGUS

DUDE
Karl Hungus.

A THIRD CARD:

BUNNY LAJOYA


A FOURTH CARD:

LOGJAMMIN'

The Dude is at the bar, a bottle of Kahlua frozen halfway
to his glass.

From the television set we hear a doorbell ring, and then a
door opening.

On the TV screen the door opens to reveal a sallow-faced
man in White cover-alls. It is Uli, the floater in
Lebowski's pool. The girl answering the door is Bunny Lebowski.

BUNNY
Hi.

ULI
Hello. Mein dizbatcher says zere
iss somezing wrong mit deine kable.

BUNNY
Yeah, come on in, I'm not really sure
exactly what's really wrong with the cable.

ULI
Dat's vhy day zent me, I'm un exspert.

BUNNY
The TV's in here.

MAUDE
You recognize her, of course.

ULI
Za, okay, I bring mein toolz.

BUNNY
Oh, that's my friend Shari.
She just came over to use the shower.

MAUDE
(grimly)
The story is ludicrous.

ULI
Mein nommen ist Karl.
ich bin expert.

SHARI
You must be here to fix the cable.

MAUDE
Good lord. You can imagine where it goes
from here.

DUDE
He fixes the cable?

MAUDE
Don't be fatuous, Jeffrey.

Maude switches off the set.

Little matter to me that this woman chose
to pursue a career in pornography, nor that
she has been "banging" Jackie Treehorn, to use
the parlance of our times. However. I am
one of two trustees of the Lebowski Foundation,
the other being my father. The Foundation takes
youngsters from Watts and--

DUDE
Shit yeah, the achievers.

MAUDE
Little Lebowski Urban Achievers,
yes, and proud we are of all of them.
I asked my father about his withdrawal
of a million dollars from the
Foundation account and he told me
about this "abduction", but I tell
you it is preposterous. This
compulsive fornicator is taking my
father for the proverbial ride.

DUDE
Yeah, but my-

MAUDE
I'm getting to your rug. My father
and I don't get along; he doesn't
approve of my lifestyle and, needless
to say, I don't approve of his.
However, I hardly wish to make my
father's embezzlement a police matter,
so I'm proposing that you try to
recover the money from the people
you delivered it to.

DUDE
Well-- I could do that--

MAUDE
If you successfully do so, I will
compensate you to the tune of 10% of
the recovered sum.

DUDE
A hundred.

MAUDE
Thousand, yes, bones or clams or
whatever you call them.

DUDE
Yeah ah, but, but what about my uh--

MAUDE
--your rug, yes, well with that money
you can buy any number of rugs that
don't have sentimental value for me.
And I am sorry about that crack on
the jaw.

DUDE
Oh that's that's fine. It doesn't even uh--

MAUDE
Here's the name and number of a doctor
who will look at it for you. You
will receive no bill. He's a good
man, and thorough.

DUDE
Tha, tha, That's thoughtful but--

MAUDE
Please see him, Jeffrey. He's a
good man, and thorough.

DUDE
Oh, uh...alright.

LIMO

The Dude sits in back holding a White Russian, listening to
the chauffeur, a man of about the same age.

DRIVER
--So he says, "My wife's a pain in
the ass. She's always tryin' to bust my
friggin aggets, my daughter's married to a
Jadrool loser bastard, I got a rash
so bad on my ass I can't even siddown.
But you know me. I can't complain."

THROUGH RASPING LAUGHTER:

DUDE
Fuckin' A, man. I got a rash man.
Fuckin' A...

He takes a sip of a freshly-mixed White Russian, which leaves
milk on his mustache.

...I gotta tell ya Ton' man, earlier
in the day, I was feeling really
shitty man. Really down in the dumps.
Lost a little money...

TONY
Heyh you know what? Forgeddaboutit huh, forgedaboutit.

DUDE
Yeah, fuck it man! I can't be
worried about that shit. Life goes
on man!

TONY
Well home sweet home, Mr. L.

The limo has rolled to a stop. The Dude gets out, still
holding his drink.

TONY
Hey yo, com'eer. Who's your
friend in the Volkswagon?

Tony jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

DUDE
Huh?

The Dude turns to look.

HIS POV

Halfway up the block a Volkswagon bug has pulled over to the
curb. In the driver's seat we see a fat man's shape.

TONY
Yeah, he followed us here.


The Dude scowls.

DUDE
When did he start fol--whoaaaa
--what the fuck!

The Dude is grabbed from behind and muscled away in a half-
nelson by another uniformed chauffeur.

SECOND CHAUFFEUR
Into the limo, you sonofabitch. No
arguments.

As he is frog-marched towards another limo the Dude holds
his drink away from his chest and up out of the way.

DUDE
Hey, hey, hey careful, man! There's a beverage here!

The waiting limo's back door is flung open.

INSIDE

The Dude is shoved in and awkwardly and he lands on his side
in a seat facing the front. The door is slammed behind him.
His drink is still intact.

LEBOWSKI
Start talking and talk fast you lousy
bum!

BRANDT
We've been frantically trying to
reach you, Dude.

Brandt sits catty-corner from the Dude; directly across from
the Dude is the big Lebowski, a comforter across his knees.

LEBOWSKI
Where's my goddamn money, you bum?!

DUDE
Well, well we--I, I, I don't--

LEBOWSKI
They did not receive the money, you
nitwit! They did not receive the
money! HER LIFE WAS IN YOUR
HANDS!

BRANDT
This is our concern, Dude.

DUDE
No, man, nothing is fucked here--

LEBOWSKI
NOTHING IS FUCKED!

DUDE
No man--

LEBOWSKI
THE GODDAMN PLANE HAS CRASHED INTO THE MOUNTAIN!


DUDE
Well man, come on, who're you gonna believe?
Those guys or uh--we dropped off the
damn money--

LEBOWSKI
WE?!

DUDE
I--the royal we, you know, the
editorial--I dropped off the money,
exactly as per--Look, man I've got certain
information alright? Certain things have
come to light, and uh, ya know, has it ever
occurred to you, that uh, instead of uh, you know
running around, uh uh, blaming me, given the
nature of all this new shit, you know it, it
it, this could be a uh, a lot more uh, uh, uh, uh,
complex, I mean it's not just, it might not
be, just such a simple, uh--you know?

LEBOWSKI
What in God's holy name are you
blathering about?

DUDE
Well I'll tell you what I'm blathering
about! I got information man--new shit
has come to light and and--shit, man!
She kidnapped herself!

Lebowski stares at him, dumbstruck. The Dude is encouraged.

DUDE
Well sure man, look at it! Ya know. A young trophy
wife, in the parlance of our times, ya know.
She uh, uh, owes money all over town,
including to known pornographers--ha,
and that's cool, that's that's cool--
I- I'm saying, she needs money man, and
uh, you know, of course they're gonna say
they didn't get it, uh uh, because she wants
more, man, she's gotta feed the monkey,
I I mean--uh, hasn't that ever occurred to you man?
Sir?

LEBOWSKI
(quietly)
No Mr. Lebowski, that had not
occurred to me.

BRANDT
That had not occurred to us, Dude.

DUDE
Uh, okay, ya know, you guys aren't privy to all
the new shit, so uh, you know, but hey,
that's what you, that's what you pay me for. Aha...

The Dude takes a hurried sip from his drink.

Um. Speaking of which, do you think uh,
that you could uh, give me my
twenty thousand in cash? Uh, my concern is,
and I've gotta check with, with my accountant,
but that this might bump me up into a
higher tax uh--

LEBOWSKI
Brandt, give him the envelope.

DUDE
Oh well, if you've already got the,
check made out, that that's cool.

Brandt is handing him a letter-sized envelope which is
distended by something inside.

BRANDT
We received it this morning.

The Dude, frowning, untucks its flap, takes out some cotton
wadding and unrolls it.

LEBOWSKI
Since you have failed to achieve,
even in the modest task that was
your charge, since you have stolen
my money, since you have
unrepentantly betrayed my trust.
I have no choice but to tell these
bums to do whatever is necessary to
recover their money from you,
Jeffrey Lebowski. And with Brandt
as my witness, I will tell you this:


The wadding, undone, reveals a smaller wad of gauze taped up
inside. The Dude starts to unroll the inner package.

LEBOWSKI
Any further harm visited upon
Bunny, will be visited tenfold upon
your head.

Between thumb and forefinger the Dude holds up the contents
of the package--a little toe, with emerald green nail polish.

LEBOWSKI
...My God sir. I will not abide
another toe.


COFFEE SHOP

The Dude and Walter sit at the counter, both staring off
into space, both absently stirring their coffee with little
clinking noises.

AFTER A LONG BEAT:

WALTER (laughing)
That wasn't her toe dude.

DUDE
Whose toe was it, Walter?

WALTER
How the fuck should I know? I do
know that nothing about it indicates--

DUDE
The nail polish, Walter.

WALTER
Fine, Dude. As if it's impossible
to get some nail polish, apply it to
someone else's toe--

DUDE
Someone else's--where the fuck are
they gonna get--

WALTER
You want a toe? I can get you a
toe, believe me. There are ways,
Dude.

DUDE
But Walter--

WALTER
You don't wanna know about
it, believe me.

DUDE
Yeah, but Walter--

WALTER
Hell I can get you a toe by 3 0'clock this
afternoon--with nail polish. These
fucking amateurs.

Dude
Walter--

WALTER
They send us a toe, we're supposed
to shit ourselves with fear. Jesus Christ.

DUDE
Walter--

WALTER
The point is--

DUDE
They're gonna kill her, Walter, and
then they're gonna kill me--

WALTER
Dude that's, that's just the stress
talking, man. Now so far we have what
appears to me, to be a series of
victimless crimes--

DUDE
What about the toe?

WALTER
FORGET ABOUT THE FUCKING TOE!

A waitress enters.

WAITRESS
Excuse me sir, could you please keep your voices
down, this is a family restaurant.

WALTER
Oh, please dear! For your information:
the Supreme Court has roundly
rejected prior restraint!

DUDE
C'mon Walter, this is not a First Amendment
thing man.

WAITRESS
Sir, if you don't calm down I'm going
to have to ask you to leave.

WALTER
Lady, I got buddies who died face-
down in the muck so that you and I could
enjoy this family restaurant!

THE DUDE GETS UP:

DUDE
All right, I'm out of here.

WALTER
Hey Dude, don't go away man!
Com'on, this affects all of us man!

The Dude has left frame; Walter calls after him:

WALTER
Our basic freedoms!

He looks defiantly around.

WALTER
I'm staying. I'm Finishing my coffee.

He takes a drink of the coffee, then hits the counter lightly
with his hands, and then he folds his arms on the counter,
affecting nonchalance.

WALTER
Enjoying my coffee.

DUDE'S BATHROOM

A dripping noise.


We see the Dude's toes, which protrude from the
soapy water, splayed against the far side of the tub.

The Dude sits in the bathtub, surrounded by lit candles.
A joint in a roach clip in one hand.
The Dude takes a hit from the joint.

We hear the phone ringing in the other room.

The camera cuts to a small table next to the tub which
has more candles on it, a tape recorder and a tape case
labeled, 'Song of the Whale', which we hear in the background.

After the Dude's outgoing message we hear:

VOICE THROUGH MACHINE
Mr. Lebowski, this is Duty Officer
Rolvaag of the L.A.P.D.
We've recovered your automobile.
It can be claimed at...

DUDE
Ahhhh...

VOICE THROUGH MACHINE
...the North Hollywood
Auto Circus there on Victory.

DUDE
Far out.

MESSAGE
...The hours there on weekdays will be 10:30 to 5

DUDE
Far fuckin' out.

MESSAGE
You'll just need to present a claim--

The message is interrupted by loud smashing sounds, as of
someone applying a baseball bat to the answering machine.

He looks blearily at the open doorway.


A tall man dressed in black with a cricket paddle is
smashing the answer machine.

DUDE
Hey !Hey! This is a private residence,
man!

A man holdin a leash with a small animal on it skittering
excitedly on the floor, has entered the bathroom and,
two other men, including the one with the cricket bat
are entering behind him.

They turn on the light to the bathroom as the enter.

The Dude looks curiously at the small, nattering animal.

DUDE
Ah, nice marmot.

The first man, with the leash, scoops up the marmot and tosses it,
screaming, into the bathtub.

The Dude screams.

The marmot splashes frantically, biting at the Dude in a
frenzy of fearful aggression.

FIRST MAN
Ver is za money Lebowski.
Vee vant zat money, Lebowski.

The Dude, screaming, grabs the lip of the tub and starts to
hoist himself up but the first man lays a palm on his shoulder
and squishes him back into the water. The Dude hits at the marmot
splashing water everywhere. The first man then scoops the marmot
out of the water. It shakes itself off, spraying the Dude.

SECOND MAN
You sink veer kidding und making
mit de funny stuff?

THIRD MAN
Vee could do things you only dreamed
of, Lebowski.

The marmot, back on the floor, is skittering around, shaking
itself and convulsing in little sneezes.

SECOND MAN
Ja, vee belief in nossing.

ULI
Vee belief in nossing, Lebowski!
NOSSING!! ...
und tomorrow vee come back und
vee cut off your chonson.

DUDE
Excuse me?

ULI
I SAY VEE CUT OFF YOUR CHONSON!

SECOND MAN
Just sink about zat, Lebowski.

The three men turn to leave. Over their retreating backs:

ULI
Ja, your viggly penis, Lebowski.


The second man turns off the light as he leaves the room.

SECOND MAN
Ja, und maybe vee stamp on it und
skvush it, Lebowski!

The man with the cricket bat smashes something made of glass
on his way out of the bungalow.

NORTH HOLLYWOOD AUTO CIRCUS

POLICEMAN
It was discovered last night in Van Nuys,
uh lodged against an abutment.

DUDE
Oh man, lodged where!!

A policeman with a clipboard is leading the Dude through a
large parking lot.

POLICEMAN
You're lucky she didn't chopped, Mr.
Lebowski.

DUDE
Oohh Mannn!

POLICEMAN
Must've been a joyride situation;
they abandoned the vehicle once they
hit the retaining wall.

They have reached the Dude's car. The driver's side
exterior has been scraped raw. The Dude looks in the window.

DUDE
Oooh my fucking briefcase man! It's not here! Shit!

POLICEMAN
Yeah I saw that on the report. Sorry
uh, you gotta get in on the other side.
Uh, the side view was found on the road
by the car.

The policeman hands the Dude an exterior rear-view mirror.

POLICEMAN
You're lucky they left the tape deck though,
and the Creedence.

The Dude climbs in the passenger side.

DUDE
Awh! Jesus--what's that smell, man?

POLICEMAN
Uh, yeah. Its ah, probably a vagrant, slept
in the car. Or maybe just used it
as a toilet, and moved on.

The Dude bellows through the glass on the driver's side:

DUDE
Hey man, are you gonna find these guys?
Or, you know uh, I mean, do you got any
promising uh, uh, leads? Or--

POLICEMAN
Leads, yeah sure. I'll uh, just check with
the boys down at the Crime Lab.
They uh, got uh, four more detectives working
on the case. They've got us working in shifts.

The Dude looks sadly through his window at the policeman
rocking back on his heels, his raucous laughter muffled by
the glass.

POLICEMAN
Leads!

The policeman laughs hysterically.

POLICEMAN
Wooo...Leads!


BOWLING ALLEY BAR

The Dude, Walter and Donny sit at the bar, the Dude with a
White Russian, Walter with a beer, and Donny with a soda.

DUDE
My only hope is that the
big Lebowski kills me before the
Germans can cut my dick off.

WALTER
Now that is just ridiculous, Dude. No
one's going to cut your dick off.

DUDE
Thank you Walter.

WALTER
Not if I have anything to say about
it.

DUDE
(bitterly)
Thank you Walter. That makes me
feel very secure.

WALTER
Dude--

DUDE
That makes me feel warm inside.

WALTER
Now Dude--

DUDE
This whole fucking thing--I could
be sitting here with just pee-stains
on my rug.

Walter shakes his head.

WALTER
Yeah.

DUDE
But no man, I gotta--you know.

WALTER
Fucking Germans. Nothing changes.
Fucking Nazis.

DONNY
They were Nazis, Dude?

WALTER
Come on, Donny, they were threatening
castration!

DONNY
Uh-huh.

WALTER
Are we gonna split hairs here?

DONNY
No--

WALTER
Am I wrong?

DONNY
Well--

DUDE (softly)
look man...

WALTER
Am I--

DUDE
Man. They were nihilists, man.

WALTER
Huh?

DUDE
They kept saying they believe in
nothing.

WALTER
Nihilists! Fuck me.

Walter looks haunted.

I mean say what you want about the
tenets of National Socialism, Dude,
at least it's an ethos.

DUDE
Yeah.

WALTER
And let's also not forget--let's not
forget, Dude--that keeping wildlife, uh,
an amphibious rodent, for uh, you know,
domestic, within the city--
that ain't legal either.

DUDE
What're you, a fucking park ranger
now?

WALTER
No, I'm just trying to uh--

DUDE
Who gives a shit about the fucking
marmot!

WALTER
--We're sympathizing here, Dude--

DUDE
Fuck sympathy! I don't need
your fucking sympathy, man,
I need my fucking Johnson!

DONNY
What do you need that for, Dude?

WALTER
You gotta buck up, man, you cannot
drag this negative energy into the
tournament.


DUDE
Fuck the tournament! Fuck you,
Walter!

There is a moment of stunned silence.

WALTER
Fuck the tournament?!

WALTER
Okay Dude. I can see you don't want
to be cheered up here. C'mon Donny, let's
go get us a lane.

They leave the Dude sitting morosely at the bar. As he stares

DOWN INTO HIS EMPTY GLASS:

DUDE
Another Caucasian, Gary.

VOICE
Right, Dude.

STILL STARING DOWN AT THE BAR:

DUDE
Friends like these, huh Gary.

GARY
That's right, Dude.

The song, "Tumbling Tumbleweeds." starts playing signaling
an 'atmosphere' change. The bowling alley is a distant sound.

Gary sits the Dude's drink in front of him and the camera pans
out to show a middle-aged, amiable, craggily handsome--Sam
Elliot, perhaps. He has a large Western-style mustache and
wears denims, a yoked shirt and a cowboy hat. And he is seated
on the stool that Walter vacated.


TO THE BARTENDER:

MAN
D'ya got a good sarsaparilla?

We recognize the voice of The Stranger whose narration opened
the movie.

BARTENDER
Sioux City Sarsaparilla.

The Stranger nods.

THE STRANGER
Yeah, that's a good one.

Waiting for his drink, he looks amiably around the bar. His
crinkled eyes settle on the Dude.


THE STRANGER
How ya doin' there, Dude?

The Dude looks over at the Stranger.

DUDE
Not to good, man.

THE STRANGER
One a those days, huh.

DUDE
Yeap.

THE STRANGER
Wal, a wiser fella than m'self once said,
sometimes you eat the bar en...

The bartender puts a brown bottle and a frosted glass on the
bar in front of The Stranger.

THE STRANGER
Much abliged.

He looks back at the Dude.

THE STRANGER
... and sometimes the
bar, wal, he eats you.

DUDE
Hmm. That some kind of Eastern
thing?

THE STRANGER
Far from it.

The starnger reaches for his drink and pauses before drinking.

THE STRANGER
I like your style, Dude.


DUDE
Well I dig your style too, man.
Got a whole cowboy thing goin'.

THE STRANGER
Thankie, there's just one thing, Dude.

DUDE
Whassat?

THE STRANGER
D'ya have to use s'many cuss words?

THE DUDE LOOKS UP, ABSENTLY:

DUDE
What the fuck are you talking about?

The Stranger chuckles indulgently and pushes off from the
bar.

THE STRANGER
Okay Dude, have it your way.

He stands up from the bar stool and looks at the Dude.

THE STRANGER
Take 'er easy, Dude.

DUDE
Yeah. Thanks man.

He is gone. "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" is ending as Gray places
the phone in front of the Dude:

GARY
Call for ya Dude.

The Dude picks up the phone that Gary just put in front of him.

DUDE
Hello.

MAUDE
Jeffrey, you have not gone to the
doctor.

DUDE
Uh, oh yeah, no no, I haven't yet, Uh--

MAUDE
I'd like to see you immediately.

DUDE
Oh?


MAUDE'S LOFT:

We see a thin man dressed in black, with close cropped hair,
sitting in a black leather chair, reading a magazine.
He looks up at the Dude as he walks in the room.

MAN
So you're Lebowski?

DUDE
Yeah.

MAN
Maudie's told me all about you.
She'll be back in a minute, sit down.
Do you want a drink?

DUDE
Yeah, sure, White Russian.

The Dude sits down in the other leather chair.

MAN
The bar's over there.

The Dude gets up to go over to the bar.

MAN
So what do you do Lebowski?

DUDE
Who the fuck are you man?

MAN (snickering)
Just a friend of Maudie's.

DUDE
Yeah? The friend with the cleft asshole?

The man snickers and laughs again.

DUDE
Whadda you do?

MAN (giggles and snickers)
Oh, nothing much.

Maude enters the room wearing a green outer garment.

MAUDE
Hello Jeffery.

MAN (to Maude)
Hello.

DUDE
Uh, yeah. How are you? Uh,
listen Maude, I've got to uh--
tender my resignation or whatever,
because uh, looks like your mother
really was kidnapped after all.

MAUDE
She most certainly was not!

DUDE
Hey man, why don't you fucking listen
occasionally? You might learn
something. Now I got--

MAUDE
And please don't call her my mother.

The man in the chair starts giggling.

MAUDE
She is most definitely the perpetrator
and not the victim.

DUDE
I'm telling you, I got pretty definitive
evidence--

MAUDE
From who?

DUDE
From the main guy, Uli.

MAUDE
Uli Kunkel?
Her "co-star" in the beaver picture?

DUDE
Beav-? You mean vagina?--I mean,
you know the guy?

MAUDE
I might have introduced them
for all I know

Maude walks past the man in the chair on her way to the counter.

MAUDE
Do you remember Uli?

MAN
umm.

MAUDE
He's a musician, he used to have a group,
'Autoban'. Look in my LPs they released
one album in the late seventies.

The Dude fingers through the albums filling a metal rack.

MAUDE
Their music is a sort of--ugh--techno-pop..

The Dude stops between two albums.

The Dude pulls out an album with a worn sleeve. On it is
the group's name, Autobahn, the album name, Nagelbett, and a
picture of three young germans, their forheads looming below
slicked back hair, gazing upward in thin-lipped epiphany. They are
wearing red shirts, red lipstick, black ties and black pants.
A bed of nails is the only set dressing on the cyc.

MAUDE
So he's pretending to be the abductor?

DUDE
Well...yeah--

MAUDE
Look, Jeffrey, you don't really
kidnap someone you're acquainted
with. The whole idea is that the
hostage can't be able to identify
you, after you've let them go.

DUDE
Well I, I I know that.

The man in the black chair giggles hysterically.

DUDE
What the fuck is with this guy?
Who is he?

MAUDE
Knox Harrington, the video artist.

The man continues to giggle and snicker.


MAUDE
So Uli has the money?

DUDE
Well uh, no, not exactly. Uh, uh uh,
This is a very complicated case, Maude.
You know a Lotta ins, a Lotta outs,
a lotta what-have-yous. And uh, lotta
strands to keep in my head, man.
Lotta strands in old Duder's head.

The phone is ringing. Knox Harrington is motioning to Maude
for permission to answer it. He picks up the phone.

KNOX HARRINGTON
Hello.

MAUDE
Well if Uli doesn't have it, then who does?

KNOX HARRINGTON (laughing)
It's Sandró about Biennale.

MAUDE
Uh, look, I have to take this

MAUDE
Do you still have that doctor's
number?

DUDE
Huh? No, really, It's not even,
not even brused anymore


Maude is holding up another phone in her hand.

MAUDE
Oh please Jeffrey. I don't want to be
responsible for any delayed after-
effects.

She pushes a button on the phone.
Knox is laughing in the background.

MAUDE
Di a me Sandró. Si.

DUDE
After effects?

MAUDE
Si. Si! Chè ridículo.

Both Knox, who has been listening to the phone conversation,
and Maude, break into hysterical laughter.

The Dude stands there looking bewildered.


CLOSE SHOT THE DUDE

His eyes are closed, a headset on, Leaking tinnily
through the headset we hear the last bars of
Elvis Costello's " My Mood Swings."

Behind him, cropped so that we see only a little of his torso,
a white-smocked figure. The figure comes up to the Dude and pull one arm of
the headset away from the Dude's ear, and as he does so the music
issues more strongly. he pulls back the Dude's hair and checks his ear.
The figure circles to one side, out of frame.

VOICE
Could you slide your shorts down
Mr. Lebowski, please?

The Dude's eyes open.

DUDE
Hmm? No, no man, she, she hit me right here.

VOICE
I understand. Could you slide
your shorts down please?

DUDE'S CAR

The Dude is driving home. A Creedence tape plays. The Dude
is sucking down a joint and a beer. He glances at the rear-view mirror--
and, noticing something, looks again.

HIS POV

A Volkswagon bug is following, a lone fat man driving.

THE DUDE

His eyes still on the mirror, he absently takes the joint
between thumb and forefinger of his right hand and flicks it
out the driver's window--except that the window is not open.
The butt bounces off the glass and down into the Dude's lap,
showering sparks.

DUDE'S CROTCH

The glowing butt rolls down the car seat between his legs.
The Dude screams. He frantically trys to put it out with his right hand.
Then he pours the beer into his crotch.

THE STREET

The car careens wildly as the surrounding traffic veers off
to, make way, horns blaring. The car finally swerves left and
smashes into a green dumpster that was sitting on the street,
knocking it over.

INSIDE THE CAR

The Dude sits stunned, his sun glasses are askewed on his nose.
The Dude grabs at his door, which won't open, and then slides over.
He is sitting on the passenger side now, away from the lit butt.
He looks around for it.

Then he looks out both sides of the car for the blue volkswagon
that has disappeared. He looks back at the seat. There is a piece
of paper sticking out from between the cushions.

The Dude pulls it out.

It is lined notebook paper, severly wrinkled and
dripping beer, and covered with handwriting. The theme is titled
"The Louisiana Purchase." In red ink is a large 'circled D',
right of that is, 'Mrs. Jamtoss, History, period 4'. To the left
of the circled D is the name 'Larry Sellers'. Some handwritten
marginal comments and misspelled words are circled in red throughout.




CRANE JACKSON'S FOUNTAIN STREET THEATER

We are in front of the Dude, and Donny, facing the stage
where Marty, the Dude's balding landlord, is performing
a dance moderne. Walter enters from the side and sits two
seats down from the Dude.

As Walter talks to the Dude he leans in to him, his voice
hushed, so as not to disturb the rest of the very sparse
audience.

WALTER
He lives in North Hollywood on
Radford, near the In-and-Out Burger.

DUDE
Uh, the In-and-Out Burger's on Camrose.

WALTER
Near the In-and-Out Burger. Th--

DONNY
Those are good burgers, Walter.

WALTER
Shut the fuck up, Donny. The kid
is in ninth grade, Dude, and his
father is--are you ready for this?--

DUDE
Hmm.

WALTER
His father is, Arthur Digby Sellers.

DUDE
Who the fuck is that?

WALTER
Huh?

DUDE
Who the fuck is Arthur Digby Sellers?

WALTER
Who the fu-- have you ever heard of a
little show called Branded, Dude?

DUDE
Yeah. Yes I know--


WALTER
All but one man died? There at Bitter
Creek?

DUDE
Yeah, I know the fucking show
Walter, so what?

WALTER
Fucking Arthur Digby Sellers wrote
156 episodes, Dude.

DUDE
Huh!

WALTER
Bulk of the series.

DUDE
Ahwww.

WALTER
Not exactly a lightweight.

DUDE
No.

WALTER
And yet his son is a fucking dunce.

DUDE
Uh.

WALTER
Anyway uh, we'll go there after the uh,

He waves a hand vaguely toward the stage.

WALTER
what have you. We'll, brace
the kid, should be a push over--

DONNY
We'll be near the In-and-Out Burger.

WALTER
SHUT THE FUCK UP, Donny. We'll, go out
there and we'll brace the kid--he should
be a pushover. We'll get that fucking
million dollars back, if he hasn't spent
it already. A million fucking clams. And
yes, we'll be near the, uh--

DONNY
In-n-Out.

The Dude looks over at Walter and points to the stage.

DUDE (softly)
Hey, shussh shussh, man.

WALTER
...some burgers, some beers,
a few laughs. Our fucking
troubles are over, Dude.


RESIDENTIAL AREA

The Dude's car chugs to a stop on a residential street.

DUDE
Awwww fuck me, man! That kid's already
spent all the money man!

Parked incongruously in front of the small white house
is a brand new red Corvette

WALTER
New 'vette? Hardly Dude, I'd say he
still has, 960 to 970 thousand dollars
left, depending on the options. Wait in
the car, Donny.

THE FRONT DOOR

Walter knocks on the door. It is opened by a matronly Spanish
woman.

WOMAN
Jace?

WALTER
Pilar? My name is Walter
Sobchak, this is my associate
Jeffrey Lebowski. Uh, we came to
talk about little Larry. May we
come in?

WOMAN
Jace jace.

WALTER (softly)
Thank you.

They enter a living room and stand, looking about.
There is a rhythmic compressor sound; Walter places it and
nudges the Dude.

WALTER
That's him, Dude.

At the other end of the living room a man
lies on something that looks like a hospital gurney with its
midsection enclosed by a motorized stainless-steel bubble.
It is an iron lung, artificially breathing with distinct
hisses in and out.

VIVA VOCE
AND A GOOD DAY TO YOU, SIR.

PILAR
Ay, see down, please.

CALLS UP THE STAIRS:

PILAR
Larry! Sweetie! Dat mang is here!

He and the Dude sit on a plastic protected sofa. In a lowered
voice, to Pilar:

WALTER
Is he, . . . Does he still write?

PILAR
Oh no, no. He has healt' problems.

WALTER
Uh-huh.

HE BELLOWS ACROSS THE ROOM:

WALTER
Uh sir, I just want to say, uh, that we're
both--on a personal level, really enormous fans.
Branded, especially the early episodes, was truly
a source of inspiration.

Larry, a fifteen-year-old, enteres the room and looks at the two men.

PILAR
Sweetie see down. This man is the police.

WALTER
Oh no ma'am, We didn't want to give the
impression that we were police exactly.
We're hoping it won't be necessary to
call the police. But that's up to little
Larry here. Isn't it, Larry?

Walter pops the latches on his attache case and takes out
the homework, which is now in a ziploc bag. He holds it out
at arm's length, displaying it to Larry.

WALTER
Is this your homework, Larry?

Larry does not respond.

WALTER
Is this your homework, Larry?

DUDE
Look, man, Is--

WALTER
Dude, please!. . .

DUDE
uooh.

WALTER
...Is this your homework, Larry?

DUDE
Just ask him about the car man.

Walter is still holding out the homework.

WALTER
Is this yours, Larry? Is this your
homework, Larry?

DUDE
Is that your car out front?

WALTER
Is this your homework, Larry?

DUDE
We know it's his fucking homework!
Where's the fucking money,
you little brat?!

Throughout Walter has been staring at Larry with the homework
extended towards him.

WALTER
Look, Larry. . . Have you ever heard
of Vietnam?

DUDE
Oh, for Christ's sake, Walter!

WALTER
You're entering a world of
pain, son. We know that this is
your homework. We know you stole a
car--

DUDE
And the fucking money!

WALTER
And the fucking money. And we know
that this is your homework.

DUDE
We're gonna cut your dick off Larry.

WALTER
You're KILLING your FATHER, Larry!.

No answer.

FINALLY, IN DISGUST:

WALTER
Alright, this is pointless.

As he shoves the homework back in the attache case:

WALTER
Ok, time for Plan B. You might want
to watch out that front window Larry.

He is heading for the door.

WALTER
Son, this is what happens when you FUCK a
STRANGER in the ASS.

OUTSIDE

Walter is striding down the lawn with his attache case like
an enraged encyclopedia salesman. Without looking back at,
the Dude, who follows:

WALTER
Fucking language problem here.
Little prick is stonewallin' me.

The Dude comes out of the house.

DUDE
Walter, what are you doing man?


Walter pops the Dude's trunk, flings in the briefcase and takes
out a crowbar.

DUDE
What are you doing?

WALTER
Here you go Larry.

He is walking over to the Corvette.

WALTER
YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS,
YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS LARRY!

CRASH! He swings the crowbar into the back window, which
shatters.

WALTER
YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS?!

DUDE
Oh, great.

WALTER
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FUCK A
STRANGER IN THE ASS LARRY!

CRASH! He takes out the driver's window.


Larry is watching out the front window. A light comes on
in the house across the street. Dogs are barking.

WALTER
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS LARRY.

Walter reaches in the car and turns on the headlights.

WALTER
YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS LARRY?
YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS! WHEN YOU
FUCK A STRANGER IN THE ASS!


CRASH! Walter smashes the windshield continually.
Lights are going on in houses down the street. Distant
dogs bark.
WALTER
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS,

CRASH!

WALTER
YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS LARRY?

CRASH!

WALTER
YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS LARRY?

CRASH!

WALTER
YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS LARRY WHEN
YOU FUCK A STRANGER IN THE ASS?

Walter moves to the front of the car and smashes a headlamp.
CRASH!

WALTER
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS LARRY!

CRASH! The other headlamp gets hit.

WALTER
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS LARRY!

Walter is now smashing in the hood.

VOICE
MY CAR!

WALTER
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS LARRY!

VOICE
MY BABY, STOP IT!

WALTER
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FUCK A STRANGER--


A man in a open shrit with an under shirt and boxer shorts has run over
behind Walter and grabbed him from behind on a backswing of
the crowbar.

MAN
WHAT THE FUCK JOO DOING, MANG?! STOP IT!

He wrestles the crowbar away from the startled Walter.

WALTER
Oh hey, hey man.

MAN
I JUS' BAWDEEZ FUCKEEN CAR LASS WEEK!

WALTER
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,

MAN
I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL JOO

WALTER
Hey, I'm sorry.

Walter cringes before the enraged Mexican.
The man looks about, wildly.

MAN
I JUS' BAWDEEZ FUCKEEN CAR LASS WEEK!

WALTER
Com'on man.

The man looks over at the Dudes car.

MAN
I KILL JOR FUCKEEN CAR MAN!

He runs over to the Dude's car.

DUDE
Whoa..No! Hey! Hey! THAT'S NOT his--HEY

THUMP! CRASH! the man hits the Dude's trunk and back window with the crowbar.

MAN
FUCK JOO AHHGGG, GOD DAMMIT FUCK JOO!

CRASH!

DUDE
Oh no, no man, no.

MAN
YOU LIKE DAT, FUCK JOO!

CRASH! The man smashes out the left rear window.

DUDE
NO! no awwwww, noooo.

CRASH! The man starts smashing the Dude's windshield.

MAN
I KILL JOR FUCKEEN CAR MAN!

CRASH!

DUDE
Awwww. Heyyyy.

MAN
I KILL JOR FUCKEEN CAR!


ON A DEAFENING CRASH WE CUT TO:

THE DUDE'S CAR

We are looking into the car through the broken windshield as
it rattles down the freeway. Wind whistles through the caved-
in windows.

The Dude drives, his jaw clenched, staring grimly out at the

road. Walter, beside him, and Donny in the back seat, munch
'on In-and-Out Burgers.

Santana music plays above the bluster of wind.

DUDE'S BUNGALOW

As the Dude talks on the phone he is hammering a two-by-four
into the floor just inside, and parallel to, the front door.

DUDE
I accept your apology. . . No I just,
I just want to handle it by myself from
now on. No, no . . No! That has nothing to
do with it. .

He finishes hammering,

DUDE
. .Yes, the car made it
home, You're calling at home. No,
Walter, it did not look like Larry
was about to crack. Well that's your
perception. You know Walter you're
right, there is an unspoken message
here, it's FUCK YOU, LEAVE ME THE
FUCK ALONE. . . Yeah, I'll be at
practice.


He hangs up and he rises and grabs a straightbacked chair
that stands nearby. He has just finished sliding the chair into
place with its top under the doorknob and its legs braced
against the two-by-four, thus wedging the door closed, when
the door is opened--outwards. The chair clatters to the
floor.

Woo and the blond man who earlier peed on the rug stride in,
moving the chair away.

WOO
Pin your diapers on, Lebowski. Jackie
Treehorn wants to see you.

BLOND MAN
Jackie Treehorn knows which Lebowski you are,
Lebowski.

WOO
Jackie Treehorn wants to see
to the deadbeat Lebowski.


BLOND MAN
You're not dealing with morons here.



BLACKNESS

Out of the blackness something is falling toward us. It is
a woman, falling in slow motion, her limbs flailing, her
mouth contorted by laughter. She is topless.
She falls past the camera, leaving blackness, then after a
beat reappears, rising into the night sky.

MALIBU BEACH

A group of mostly tanned men, some with long
hair, wearing tank tops, are blanket-tossing the laughing
young woman in nightmarish slow motion.

WIDER

It is a party, lit by festive beach lights and standing
kerosene heaters.

In long shot now the woman rises, squealing, disappears
into darkness, descends into light, rises again.

A man walks towards the camera through the pools of beach
light. He is handsome, fiftyish, wearing a cotton twill
vanilla white, suit pants and jacket and what appears to be
a long sleeved, red, silk shirt.

Behind him, the woman rises and falls, appears and
disappears.

MAN
Hello Dude, thanks for coming. I'm
Jackie Treehorn.

INSIDE THE BEACH HOUSE

The Dude is looking around at the '60's modern decor.

DUDE
Quite a pad you got here,
man. Completely unspoiled.

TREEHORN
What's your drink, Dude?

DUDE
White Russian, thanks.

TREEHORN
White Russian.

DUDE
How's the smut business, Jackie?

TREEHORN
I wouldn't know, Dude. I deal in
publishing, entertainment, political
advocacy--

DUDE
Which one's Logjammin'?

TREEHORN
Yes regrettably, it's true, standards
have fallen in adult entertainment.
It's video, Dude. Now that we're
competing with the amateurs, we can't
afford to invest in little extras
like story, production value, feelings.

He hands him the drink.

TREEHORN
People forget,

He taps his forehead with one finger.

that the brain is the
biggest erogenous zone--

DUDE
On you, maybe.

TREEHORN
Of course, you have to take the good with
the bad. The new technology permits
us to do very exciting things in
interactive erotic software. Wave
of the future, Dude. 100% electronic.

DUDE
Hmmm. Well, I still jerk off
manually.

TREEHORN
Ah heh, ha ha Of course you do.
Well, I can see you're
anxious for me to get to the point.
Well, here it is Dude. Where's Bunny?

DUDE
Well I thought you might know that, man.

TREEHORN
Why would I? She only ran off to get away
from that rather sizable debt to me.

DUDE
Uuno, she didn't run off, she's been uh--

Treehorn waves this off.

TREEHORN
I've heard the kidnapping story, so
save it. I know you're mixed up in
all this, Dude, and I don't care
what you're trying to get from the
husband. That's your business. All
I'm saying is, I want mine.

DUDE
Yeah, right man, there are a lot of
uh, facets uh, to this. A lotta
interested parties uh--

The phone rings.

TREEHORN
Excuse me.

Jackie answers the phone.

TREEHORN
Yeah, Oh yeah? Where's that?

The Dude becomes very interested in watching Jackie scribble
on a note pad.

TREEHORN
Alright.

Jackie hangs up, pulls the top sheet off the note pad,
and gets up, folds the paper, and turns toward the dude.

TREEHORN
Excuse me.

Jackie walks out of the room.

The Dude leaps up and quickly walks over to check on
Jackie's return. Then he grabs a pencil and hurriedly
shades the etching left by the pen on the note pad,
reveiling a drawing of a man with a unusually large penis.
The Dude is somewhat startled by what he sees.

DUDE
Hummm!

The Dude hears a door shut and he grabs the top sheet of the
note pad and puts it in the pocket of his pants as he races
back to the couch and re-positions him self as he was when
Jackie left.

Jackie enters the room.

TREEHORN
Forgive me.

DUDE
No problamo man... So uh, if I uh,
can find your money, ah, what's in it
for the Dude?

TREEHORN
Well of course, there's that to discuss.
A Refill?

DUDE
Yeah, did the Pope shit in the woods?

TREEHORN
A 10% finder's fee? Is that alright?

DUDE
Uumm! Okay, done Jackie. Yeah, I dig the way
you do business man. Your money is being
held by a kid named Larry Sellers.
He lives in North Hollywood, on
Radford, Uh, by the In-and-Out Burger.

Jackie brings him the drink.

DUDE
A real fuckin' brat, but I'm sure
your goons can get it off uh, him
I mean he's fifteen...unh
flunking social studies. So if you
could just uh, write me a check for
my ten percent. . . of half a million.
. . five grand.

He is getting to his feet, but sways woozily
and he falls backward.

DUDE
I'll go out and mingle.--Ahem um, you
mix a hell of a Caucasian, Jackie.

The Dude shakes his head, tries to focus
and he has to sit back down.

TREEHORN
A fifteen-year-old? Is this some
sort of a joke?

Words are echoing and Jackie Treehorn's image starts to swim.
He is joined on either side by Woo and the blond man, all
three men looking grimly down at the Dude.

DUDE
Awww, no joke. No funny stuff, Jackie
. . . the kid's got it. Hi, fellas
. . . kid just wanted a car.

The Dude drops his drink to the carpet.

All the Dude ever wanted. . .
was his rug back. . .
not greedy. . . it really...

He squints at Jackie Treehorn, who swims in and out of focus.

...tied the room together.

FROM UNDER THE GLASS COFFEE TABLE

Looking up at the Dude as his face hits the glass and
squishes.

FAST FADE OUT

BLACK

THE STRANGER'S VOICE
Darkness warshed over the Dude--
darker'n a black steer's tookus on a
moonless prairie night. There was
no bottom.

We hear a thundering bass.

SCRATCHY WHITE TITLE CARD:

JACKIE TREEHORN PRESENTS

ANOTHER TITLE CARD:

THE DUDE

MAUDE LEBOWSKI

THIRD TITLE CARD:

IN GUTTERBALLS

The title logo is a suggestively upright bowling pin flanked
by a pair of bowling balls. The bending bass sound turns
into the lead-in to Kenny Rogers and the First Edition's
"Just Dropped In."

The Dude is walking down a long corridor dressed as a cable
repairman. He is performing Marty's 'cycle' as he walks.
The Dude's face is washed with a brilliant light
as the corridor opens onto a gleaming bowling alley.
He gazes up at a 'eight mile high' rack of bowling shoes.
At the top is a large full moon which is the source of the light.
Behind the counter is a man that seems to be Saddam Hussain.
Saddam pulls a pair of silver and gold bowling shoes from the
rack and hands them to the Dude.

The Dude is now dancing down a long flight of stairs that seem
to stretch out to a starry infinity. They go down to the center
of a circular platform that contains 32 dancers and a bowling
lane on the other side of the platform that stretches out into
the starry void.

The dancers have '3d' cut outs of bowling pins on their heads.
They are dancing around a central figure, Maude. Maude is wearing
a bowling ball breasted, armored breastplate and Norse headgear,
has braided pigtails, and holds a trident.

The Dude continues to dance down the stairs toward the platform,
which is the same black and white tile as the stairs.

He holds a black and red swirled bowling ball high over his
head. He slowly approches Maude from behind. The Dude stands
behind her and, pressed up against her, helps her with her
follow-through as she releases the bowling ball.

The lane is straddled by a line of chorines in spangly mini-
skirts, their arms akimbo, Busby-Berkley style, their legs
turning the lane into a tunnel leading to the pins at the
end.

But it is no longer a bowling ball rolling between their
legs--it is the Dude himself, levitating inches off the lane,
He is face down, his arms, torpedolike, pressed against his sides.

His point of view shows the lane rushing by below, the little
ball-guide arrows zipping by.

The Dude twists his body around, performing a barrel-roll so
that he is now gliding along the lane face-up.

Now his point of view looks up the dresses of the passing
chorines.

The Dude smiles dreamily and does another barrel-roll so
that he is once again gliding face-down. He looks forward
and his forward momentum blows back his hair.

Coming at us, as we go through the last few pairs of legs,
are the approaching pins. We hit the pins, scattering them,
and rush on into black.

A body drops down into the blackness in slow motion--a topless
woman, squealing, her legs kicking.

As she drops out of frame, leaving blackness again, three
men are entering from the background, emerging into a pool
of light. It is the Germans, advancing ominously, wielding
oversized shears which they menacingly scissor.

The Dude, now standing in a field of black, reacts to the
advancing Germans. He turns and runs, fists pumping.

The scissoring sound of the shears turns into the whoosh of
car-bys. The field of black is punctured by headlights.
The Dude is running blearily down the middle of the Pacific
Coast Highway. Cars rush by on either side, horns blaring.

With the siren sqealing to a stop, a squad car with
flashing gumballs pulls up.

SQUAD CAR

The Dude sits in the back seat, his head lolling with the
motion of the car as he blearily sings the theme of Branded:

DUDE
He was innocent. Not a charge was
true. And they say he ran awaaaaaay.
BRANDED!

CHIEF'S OFFICE

The Dude is hurled against the chief's desk, which he bounces
off of, to come to rest more or less seated in a facing chair.

His wallet is tossed onto the desk.

The chief leans forward, takes the wallet and sorts through
it with disgusted incredulity.

CHIEF
This is your only I.D.?

He is looking at the Ralph's Shopper's Club card.

DUDE
I know my rights man.

The Chief of police takes a piece of folded paper from the
wallet and opens it up to find the 'drawing' and the word
Treehorn on the top.

CHIEF
You don't know shit, Lebowski.

DUDE
I want a fucking lawyer, man. I
want Bill Kunstler man...or umm,
or Ronald Kuby.

CHIEF
Mr. Treehorn tells us that he had to
eject you from his garden party,
that you were drunk and abusive.

DUDE
Mr. Treehorn, treats objects like,
women man.

CHIEF
Mr. Treehorn draws a lot of water in
this town, You don't draw shit Lebowski.
Now we got a nice quiet little beach community
here, and I aim to keep it nice and quiet.
So let me make something plain. I don't like you
sucking around bothering our citizens,
Lebowski. I don't like your jerk-
off name, I don't like your jerk-off
face, I don't like your jerk-off
behavior, and I don't like you, jerk-
off. Do I make myself clear?

The Dude stares absently.

DUDE
I'm sorry, I wasn't listening.

The Chief hurls his steaming mug of coffee at the Dude. It
hits him in the forehead with a thud, the scalding coffee
splashing everywhere.

The Chief is already up off his chair, rounding the desk.

DUDE
--Ow! Fucking fascist!

The Chief pushes the Dude and the chair backwards to the floor.

DUDE
Awwwwwuh!

CHIEF
STAY OUT OF MALIBU, LEBOWSKI!!

He kicks the Dude.

CHIEF
STAY OUT OF MALIBU, DEADBEAT! Keep
your ugly fucking goldbricking ass
out of my beach community!

CAB

The Dude, in the back seat of a taxicab. He is
gingerly touching at sore spots on his
face and scalp.

"Peaceful Easy Feeling" is on the radio.

DUDE'S POV

The back of the driver, a large black man with a brimless,
black leather cap on his head.

DUDE
Jesus, man, can you change the
channel?

DRIVER
Fuck you man! You don't like my
fucking music, get your own fucking
cab!

DUDE
I've had a really ruff--

DRIVER
I'll pull over the side and kick your ass out!

DUDE
Man, c'mon I had a rough night, and I hate the
fucking Eagles, man.

DRIVER
Umm humm!

THE STREET

The cab screeches over towards the curb. Another car,
oncoming, its horn blaring, speeds by.

The driver stops the cab and gets out and opens the Dude's
door and reaches in and pulls the Dude out of the cab.

DRIVER
Outta my fucking cab!

DUDE
Hey man!

DRIVER
Out, get--

DUDE
Man man! Hey!

The cab driver gets back in the cab and screeches away.

Coming up the road behind the Dude is a red convertible,
which passes him quickly. The driver, singing loudly and
badly along with the radio, her hair blowing in the wind, a
dreamy smile on her face as she speeds along, higher than a
kite, is Bunny Lebowski.

THE FOOTWELL

When she downshifts her left foot enters to engage the clutch,
in an open-toed bright red sandle shoe, that has five green painted toes.

On the accelerator her right foot has five more toes.


DUDE'S BUNGALOW

The Dude cautiously looks in the open front door. He goes
in and looks around.

DUDE
Awwwwh Jesus.

The place is a wreck. Furniture has been overturned,
upholstery slashed, drawers dumped.

Quiet.

He moves forward into the room and trips over the nailed 2x4.
He turns and looks back at the 2x4.

DUDE
Ummph.

Maude emerges from the bedroom. She is wearing a bathrobe.

MAUDE
Jeffrey.

DUDE
Maude?

MAUDE
Love me.

She pulls open the bathrobe and lets it drop to the floor.

The Dude is stupefied.

DUDE
Uh, that's my robe.

WE CUT TO:

BLACK

After a beat, a voice from the blackness:

MAUDE
Tell me a about yourself, Jeffrey.

DUDE
Well, not much to tell.

A match is dragged across a headboard; the Dude is lighting
himself a 'roach', which he holds in a roach clip.


DUDE
I uh, I was, uh, one of the authors of the
Port Huron Statement.-- Uh the original
Port Huron Statement.

The Dude and Maude lie next to each other in bed.

MAUDE
Uh-huh.

DUDE
Not the compromised second draft.

The Dude tokes on the roach.

Uh, and then I, uh. . .ummm, ever
hear of the Seattle Seven?

MAUDE
Mmnun.

DUDE
That was me...and uh, uh, six other guys.
Uhh, And then uh. . .the music
business briefly.

MAUDE
Oh?

DUDE
Yeah. Roadie for Metallica.

MAUDE
Oh.

DUDE
Speed of Sound Tour.


MAUDE
Mmm hmmm.

DUDE
Bunch of assholes. And then, uh, you
know, a little of this, a little of that.

The Dude tokes the roach again.

Uh, my career's, slowed down a little
lately.

MAUDE
What do you do for, for recreation?

DUDE
Oh, the usual. Bowl. Drive around.
The occasional acid flashback.

He sucks on the roach and he gets some burning ash in his throat.
He starts coughing and climbs out of bed but Maude remains in it.

MAUDE
What happened to your house?

She wedges a pillow into the small of her back.

DUDE
Oh, Jackie Treehorn trashed the place.
He thought I had your father's money,
he got me out of the way while he
looked for it. Coctail?

MAUDE
No thanks. It's not my father's money,
it's the Foundation's. Why did he think
you have it? And who does?

She clasps a hand on each kneecap, and pulls her knees
in toward her chest to keep her pelvis raised.

DUDE
Oh, Larry Sellers, this high-school kid.
Real fucking brat.

He starts mixing a White Russian at the bar in the living room.

DUDE
Ya Know, this is a very complicated case,
Maude. Lotta ins, lotta outs. Uh, ya know.
Fortunately I'm adhering to a pretty strict,
uh, drug uh, regimen to keep my mind,
you know, uh limber ya know. I'm very fucking
close to your father's money.

MAUDE
I keep telling you, it's the
Foundation's money. Father doesn't
have any.

The Dude re-enters the bedroom.

DUDE
Ummph, Whadda you talking about?
He's fucking loaded.

MAUDE
No no, the wealth was all Mother's.

DUDE
Waa--he runs stuff, uh, you know--

MAUDE
We did let him run one of the
companies, briefly, but he didn't do
very well at it.

DUDE
Ah..he's uh, you know.

MAUDE
No. He helps administer the charities
now, and I give him a reasonable
allowance. He has no money of his
own. I know how he likes to present
himself; Father's weakness is vanity.
Hence the slut.

DUDE
Uh. Do you think he uh,--what is
that yoga?

Throughout, Maude has been lying on her back with her knees
pulled in and now she is rolling back and forth on the bed.

MAUDE
It increases the chances of
conception.

The Dude spits some White Russian.

DUDE
Increases?

MAUDE

Well yes, what did you think this
was all about? Fun and games?
I want a child.

DUDE
Okay, Yeah, okay but let me,
let me explain something about
the Dude--

MAUDE
Look, Jeffrey, I don't want a partner.
In fact I don't want the father to
be someone I have to see socially,
or who'll have any interest in raising
the child himself.

Something occurs to him.

DUDE
So...that doctor uh.

MAUDE
Exactly. Now what happened to your face?
Did Jackie Treehorn do that as well?

The Dude is staring off into space, thinking. His answer is
absent.

DUDE
No, uhhh, It was the Chief of police of Malibu.
A real reactionary. . . So your
father. . . Oh yeah, I get it! Yeah, Yeah!

MAUDE
What?

DUDE
Oh man, my thinking about this case,
had become very uptight. Yeah.
Your father--

The Dude is leaves the bedroom.

FROM THE BEDROOM:

MAUDE'S VOICE
Jeffery! What're you talking about?

LIVING ROOM

The Dude finishes punching a number into the phone.

MAUDE'S VOICE
Jeffery!

The phone is ringing on the other end.

DUDE
Walter, if you're there, pick up the
fucking phone man. C'mon Walter, pick
it up, man, this is an emergency...

WALTER
Dude?

DUDE
C'mon I'm not--

WALTER
Dude?


DUDE
Yeah, listen Walter, I'm at my place, I
need you to come pick me up.

WALTER
I can't drive, Dude, it's erev
shabbas.

DUDE
What?

WALTER
Erev shabbas.

DUDE
What?!

WALTER
Erev shabbas. I can't drive.

DUDE
Man!

WALTER
I'm not even supposed to pick up the
phone, unless it's an emergency.

DUDE
This IS a fucking emergency.

WALTER
I understand. That's why I picked
up the phone.

DUDE
WALTER, YOU FUCK, WE GOTTA
GO TO PASADENA MAN! COME PICK ME UP OR
I'M OFF THE FUCKING BOWLING TEAM!


THE DUDE

He emerges on his front stoop, pulling on a sweatshirt. His
attention is caught by something down the street.

HIS POV

A car is parked halfway down the block. We can see the
shape of a fat man in the driver's seat.

THE DUDE

Striding purposefully down the street.

HIS POV

The fat man leans forward and we hear the sound of the car's
ignition coughing, but the engine will not turn over.

DUDE
Get out of that fucking car man.

The man hurriedly fumbles in front of him. He brings up a
newspaper, which he holds before his face.

DUDE
Get out of that fucking car!
Get the fuck out of the car man!

THE DUDE

As he gets to the car He is revved with nervous energy.
He tries to open the door but it is locked, so he reaches
through the open driver's window to unlock it, but the man
re-locks it.

DUDE
Get out of the fuckin--

The man nervously complies. The Dude flinches at the man's
movement as he gets out.

The man cringes, reacting to the Dude's flinch.

He is wearing a cheap blue serge suit. He is bald with a
short fringe and a mustache.

The Dude shouts to cover his fear:

DUDE
Who the fuck are you, man!?

MAN
Easy man, relax, man! No
physical harm intended!

DUDE
Who the fuck are you?

MAN
Ok man, I'm ok.

DUDE
Why're you following me around?
Come on, fuckhead!

MAN
Hey, relax man, I'm a brother shamus.

The Dude is stunned.

DUDE
Brother Shamus? Like an Irish monk?

MAN
What the fuck are you talking
about? My name's Da Fino! I'm a
private snoop! Like you, man!

DUDE
What?

DA FINO
A dick, man! And let me tell you
something: I dig your work. Playing
one side against the other--in bed
with everybody--fabulous stuff, man.

DUDE
I'm not-- fuck it man, just stay
away from my fucking lady friend.


DA FINO
Hey hey, I'm not messing with your
special lady.

DUDE
She's not my special lady, she's my
fucking lady friend. I'm just helping
her conceive, man!

DA FINO
Hey, man, I'm not--uh

DUDE
Who're you working for? Lebowski?
Uh, Jackie Treehorn?

DA FINO
The Knudsens.

DUDE
The? Who who, who the fuck are the Knudsens?

DA FINO
The Knudsens. It's a wandering
daughter job. Bunny Lebowski, man.
Her real name is Fawn Knudsen.
Her parents want her back.

He reaches into his inner suit coat pocket and pulls out two photos.

DA FINO
See?

The Dude looks at the picture.

It is probably a school portrait, unmistakably Bunny, but
fresh-faced, much younger looking, with a corn-fed smile and
straight Partridge Family hair and bangs.

DUDE
Jesus fucking Christ.

DA FINO
Crazy, huh? Ran away about a year ago.

He is holding out another picture.

The Knudsens told me I should show her
this when I found her. It's the family farm.

A bleak farmhouse and and out buildings are the only features on a flat
snow-swept landscape.

It's outside uhh Moorhead, Minnesota.
They think it'll make her homesick.

DUDE

Ssss Oh boy. How ya gonna keep 'em down on
the farm once they've seen Karl Hungus.

He hands back the picture.

DUDE
She's been kidnapped, Da Fino.

DA FINO
Oh man, that's terrible.

DUDE
Oh I don't know, maybe not, but she's
definitely not around.

DA FINO
Hey, uh, phfff, maybe you and me could
pool our resources--trade information--
uh, professional courtesy--

DUDE
Yeah.

DA FINO
compeers, you know what I mean.

We hear distant yapping, growing louder with the hum of an
approaching van.

DUDE
Yeah yeah, I get it. Fuck off, Da Fino.
And stay away from my special--
from my fucking lady friend man.

The Dude steps out to meet Walter's van as it pulls up, its
passenger window open and the pomeranian leaning out and
yapping.


STACKS OF PANCAKES HOUSE

Four people sit at a booth: Uli and the second and third man.
Also a young woman with long stringy blonde hair, wearing jeans
and a zebra striped sleeveless shirt. She is apparently braless,
and is teutonically pale on her face and arms. A waitress stands
at the table with a pen and a check pad.


The second man seems to be asleep. They are looking at menus
Uli looks sourly up and hands his menu to the waitress.

ULI
Uhh the lingonberry pancakes.

THIRD MAN
Aufwachen (Wake up) Arschloch (asshole)!

SECOND MAN
Lingonberry pancakes.

THRIRD MAN
Sree picks in blanket.

The woman speaks to Uli in German.

NILHILIST WOMAN
Für (for) mich (me) auch (too) Heidelberg
Pfannkuchen (pancakes), Uli, Heidelberg
Pfann(f)kuchen.

ULI
She has lingonberry pancakes.

As the four are talking, in German.
The camera stays with the girl and follows down her camera-side
leg, which ends in a bandage-swaddled foot.
Dried rust-colored blood stains the tip of the bandage.


WALTER'S VAN

Walter's eyes are on the road as he listens to the
Dude, while driving.

DUDE
I mean we totally fucked it up, man.
We fucked up his pay-off. We got
the kidnappers all pissed off at us,
and Lebowski, he yelled at me a lot,
but he didn't do anything. Huh?

The dog is barks in the back of the van.

WALTER
Well, sometimes the cathartic,
uh.

DUDE
No No, I'm saying if he knows I'm a
fuck-up, why does he leave me
in charge of getting his wife back?
Because he doesn't fucking want her
back, man! He's had enough! He no
longer digs her! It's all a show!
Ok? But then, why didn't he give a shit
about his million bucks? I mean, he
knows we never handed off his briefcase,
but he never asked for it back. The
million bucks was never in the briefcase.
The briefcase was fucking empty, man!
The asshole was hoping that they would
kill her! You threw out a ringer
for a ringer!

WALTER
Huut! Okay, but how does all this add up
to an emergency?

DUDE
Huh?

WALTER
I'm saying, I see what you're getting
at, Dude, he kept the money, my
point is, huum, here we are, it's shabbas,
the sabbath, which I'm allowed to
break only if it's a matter of life
or death--

DUDE
Will you come off it Walter. You're not
even fucking Jewish, man.

WALTER
What the fuck are you talking about?

DUDE
Man, you're fucking Polish Catholic.

WALTER
What the fuck are you talking about?
I converted when I married Cynthia!

DUDE
Yeah.

WALTER
Come on, Dude!

DUDE
Yeah, yeah yeah!

WALTER
You know this!

DUDE
Yeah, and five fucking years ago,
you were divorced.

WALTER
So, what are you saying?
When you get divorced, you turn in
your library card? You get a new
license? You stop being Jewish?

DUDE
This is the driveway.

AS HE TURNS:

WALTER
I'm as Jewish as fucking Tevye

DUDE
Man, you know, it's it's all a part
of your sick Cynthia thing man. Taking
care of her fucking dog. Going to
her fucking synagogue. You're living
in the fucking past.

WALTER
Three thousand years of beautiful
tradition, from Moses to Sandy Koufax--
YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT I'M LIVING IN THE FUCKING
PAST! I--Jesus. What the hell
happened?


He is looking off as the van slows. The Dude looks where
Walter is looking. They see a red sports car crashed into
the fountain.

THE LEBOWSKI MANSION

Walter's car pulls up the drive into the foreground and he
and the Dude get out.

Both are gaping off at the front lawn.
Tire treads lead across the front lawn to where the
little red sports car rests with its hood crumpled into
the fountain.

WALTER
Un huh, un huh, un huh, un huh.
What the fuck?

The Dude, Walter and the dog enter the front door and
descend the stairs into the 'great hall'.


DUDE
AWWWWWH!


TRACKING DOWN THE GREAT HALLWAY

Brandt, approaching, stoops and straightens, stoops and
straightens, picking up the discarded clothes that run the
length of the hall. Through the French doors at its far end
we can see Bunny, naked, briefly bouncing past the windows.

DUDE
Where was she man?

BRANDT
Visiting friends of hers in Palm
Springs. She just picked up and left,
never bothered to tell us.

DUDE
Well I guess the fucking nihilist
knew where she was!

WALTER
Jesus, Dude! She never even kidnapped
herself.

BRANDT
Who's this gentleman, Dude?

WALTER
Who'm I?

The Dude grabs Walters arm.

DUDE
C'mon.

WALTER
I'm a fucking veteran, that's who I am!

We watch the Dude and Walter as they approach the doors to
the great study. Walter's dog follows, stiffly waving its
tail.

BRANDT
You shouldn't go in there, Dude!
He's very angry!

BANG--the Dude and Walter push through the double doors into--

THE GREAT ROOM

DUDE
SO Man!

The big Lebowski's wheelchair hums as he rolls toward them.

LEBOWSKI
(bitterly)
So? She's back. No thanks to you.

DUDE
Where's the fucking money, Lebowski?

WALTER
A MILLION BUCKS...

DUDE
Hey...

WALTER
...FROM FUCKING NEEDY LITTLE...

DUDE
Walter...

WALTER
...URBAN ACHIEVERS! YOU ARE
SCUM, MAN!

LEBOWSKI
Who the hell is he?

WALTER
Who am I, Who am I?

DUDE
Walter...

WALTER
I'm the guy who's gonna KICK...

DUDE
Walter wait...

WALTER
...YOUR PHONY GOLDBRICKING ASS!
That's who I am!

DUDE
MAN! We know the briefcase was fucking empty,
We know you kept the million bucks for yourself.

LEBOWSKI
You have your story, I have
mine. I say I entrusted the money
to you, and you stole it.

WALTER
AS IF WE WOULD EVER DREAM OF TAKING
YOUR BULLSHIT MONEY!

DUDE
You thought that Bunny had been kidnapped
and you were fucking glad man. You could
use it as an excuse to make some money
disappear. All you needed was a sap to
pin it on, and you'd just met me. You you,
human paraquat! You figured, oh, here's
a loser, you know a, a a, deadbeat, someone
the square community won't give a shit about.

LEBOWSKI
Well? Aren't ya?

DUDE
Well. . . yeah, but you--

LEBOWSKI
Get out. Both of you.

WALTER
Look at that fucking phony, Dude!
Pretending to be a fucking
millionaire!

LEBOWSKI
Out of this house. Now you bums.

WALTER
Let me tell you something else.
I've seen a lot of spinals, Dude,
and this guy is a fake. A fucking
goldbricker.


He is crossing to Lebowski.

LEBOWSKI
Stay away from me, mister!

WALTER
This guy fucking walks. I've never
been more certain of anything in my
life!

LEBOWSKI
You stay away from me.

DUDE
WALTER, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE! HE'S
A CRIPPLE!

WALTER
I've never been more certain
of anything in my life.

LEBOWSKI
Stay away from me I said.

WALTER
C'mon, c'mon.

Walter reaches around and hoists the big Lebowski
out of the wheelchair by his armpits.

LEBOWSKI
Get away from me!

DUDE
WALTER!

WALTER
Walk, you fucking phony!

The big Lebowski yells in horror and waggles helplessly, his rubbery feet grazing
the floor like a Raggedy Ann's. The pomeranian gaily leaps and yaps.


DUDE
PUT HIM DOWN MAN!

WALTER
Yeah, I'll put him down, Dude. RAUSS!
ACHTUNG, BABY!!

He shoves the big Lebowski forward and he crumples to the
floor, weeping.


The dog is barking. It comes over to the Big Lebowski who is
flailing about on the floor, and licks his face.
The Big lebowski pushes him away.


DUDE
C'mon man, help me put him back in his chair.


DONNY

Donny is poised at the end of the lane, he approaches the
line and releases a bowling ball. He watches the ball as it
rolls and swerves into the pins. His face smiling the pins
scattered but when the pins settle there is one pin
left standing. Donny's expression changes. He stares at it
in disbelief. In the background as a distant echo we hear
Walter talking about Iraq.

DUDE AND WALTER

Each with a beer at the scoring table.

WALTER
Sure you'll see some tank battles.
But fighting in desert is very
different from fighting in canopy
jungle.

Donny returns to a seat next to Walter.
He is still thinking about something and
ignores Walter.


DUDE
Umm humm.

WALTER
I mean 'Nam was a foot soldier's war
whereas, uh, this thing should uh,
you know, be a piece of cake.
I mean I had an M16, Jacko, not an Abrams
fucking tank. Me and Charlie,
eyeball to eyeball.

The Dude is applying a clear liquid on his finger tips
using a cap brush.

DUDE
Yeah.

WALTER
That's fuckin' combat. The man in
the black pyjamas, Dude. Worthy
fuckin' adversary.

DONNY
Who's in pyjamas, Walter?

WALTER
Shut the fuck up, Donny.
Where as what we have here, a bunch
of fig-eaters, wearing towels on their
heads tryin' to find reverse on a
Soviet tank. This, this is not a worthy
fucking adversary.

VOICE
HEY!

The Dude and Walter look.

Quintana is bellowing from the lip of the lane, and is
restrained by O'Brien.

QUINTANA
What's this "day of rest" shit?!
What's this bullshit, I don't
fucking care! It don't matter to
Jesus! But you're not fooling me man!
You might fool the fucks in the league
office, but you don't fool Jesus!
It's bush league psych-out stuff!
Laughable, man! HA HA! I would've fucked
you in the ass Saturday, I'll fuck
you in the ass next Wednesday instead!
WHAOOOO!

QUINTANA

He makes hip-grinding coital motions as O'Brien leads him
away.

QUINTANA
You got a date Wednesday, baby!

Walter, and the Dude watch him go. Walter turns
and looks at the Dude.

WALTER
He's cracking.


BOWLING ALLEY PARKING LOT

Donny, Walter and the Dude emerge from the alley, each holding
his leatherette ball satchel.

WALTER
The whole concept abates,
I mean many learned men have disputed this,
but in the 14th century the Rambam
he like...he....

They react to the droning synthesizer-based technopop coming
from a boom box.

REVERSE

Uli and his two friends, in shiny black leather, stand in
a line facing them in the all-but-deserted lot. Behind them
orange flames lick gently in the Dude's car, which has been
put to the torch. The orange flames glow on the men's
creaking leather. Next to the car are three motorcycles,
parked in a neat row. The Dude looks sadly at the burning
car.

DUDE
Well, they finally did it. They killed my
fucking car.

ULI
Vee vant zat money, Lebowski.

SECOND MAN
Ja, uzzervize vee kill ze girl.

THRID MAN
Ja, it seems you forgot our little
deal, Lebowski.

DUDE
You don't have the fucking girl,
dipshit. We know you never did.

The men in black, stunned, confer amongst themselves in
German. Under his breath:

DONNY
Are these the Nazis, Walter?

Walter answers, also sotto voce, his eyes still on the three
men:

WALTER
No Donny, these men are nihilists, there's
nothing to be afraid of.

The Germans stop conferring.

ULI
Vee don't care. Vee still vant zat
money Lebowski or vee fuck you ups.

WALTER
Fuck you. Fuck the three of you.

DUDE
Hey, cool it Walter.

Walter ignores the Dude, addresses the Germans:

WALTER
No, without a hostage there is no ransom.
That's what ransom is. Those are the fucking rules.

SECOND MAN
His girlfriend gafe up her toe!

THIRD MAN
She sought we vould get a million dollars!

ULI
Iss not fair!

WALTER
FAIR! WHO'S THE FUCKING NIHILIST
AROUND HERE! YOU, BUNCH OF
FUCKING CRYBABIES?!

DUDE
Hey, cool it Walter. Hey look, pal,
there never was any money. The big
Lebowski gave me an empty briefcase,
so take it up with him man.

WALTER
And, I would like my undies back!

Donny is visibly frightened.

DONNY
Are these guys gonna hurt us, Walter?

WALTER 'S TONE IS GENTLE:

WALTER
No, Donny. These men are cowards.

The Germans confer again, in German.

THE CONFERENCE ENDS:

ULI
Okay. So vee take ze money you haf on
you und vee call it eefen.

DUDE
Ah hah.

WALTER
Fuck you.

DUDE
Hey no, come on, Walter, come on,
we're ending this thing cheap man.

The Dude is digging into his pocket.
Walter's eyes, burning with hatred, are locked on Uli's.

WALTER
No! What's mine is mine.

DUDE
Oh, Come on, Walter!.

ULI
No funny stuff

He looks in his wallet:

DUDE
Alright! Alright uh,

ULI
No funny stuff!

DUDE
I got uh, four bucks...

He inspects the change in his palm.

DUDE
...almost five!

DONNY
(tremulously)
I got eighteen dollars, Dude.

WALTER
(grimly)
What's mine is mine.

ULI
VEE FUCK YOU UP, MAN! VEE TAKES THE
MONEY!

WALTER
(coolly)
Come and get it.

With a ring of steel, Uli produces a glinting saber.

ULI
VEE FUCK YOU UP!

DUDE
Come on man.

WALTER
Show me what you got. Nihilist.

DIETER
I FUCK YOU!

DUDE
Walter, come on he's got
a sword thing man!

WALTER
Dipshit with a nine-toed woman.

ULI
I FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!

WALTER

hurls his leather satchel.

THE SECOND NIHILIST

Is caught off-guard. The bowling
ball thuds into his chest and buckles him over.

He falls forward onto one hand, gasping.

Uli charges at Walter with the saber.

ULI
I FUCK YOU, I PIG STICK--

Uli cuts Walter's side with the sword and Walter makes him drop it.
Walter twists away and grabs Uli's head in both hands; draws Uli's
head up to his mouth, which closes on Uli's ear.

WALTER
ARRGGG!

The Dude confronts the other Nihilist but draws up short as
he sends out karate kicks, The Nihilist gives a shout with
each kick; the Dude leans back, throwing his arms up, evading
the kicks.

THE THIRD MAN
I FUCK YOU!

DUDE
Take it easy man!

THE THIRD MAN
I FUCK YOU!

DUDE
Take the four dollars!

THE THIRD MAN
I FUCK YOU!... I FUCK YOU IN THE ASS!

WALTER

His jaw is still clamped on Uli's ear.
Walter is growling as Uli screams, he worries his ear,
wagging his head.

The second Nihilist is crawling on his stomach gasping.

DUDE
I'm gonna hit you with the fuckin' ball man.

He is awkwardly circling, evading the third Nilhilist's kicks,
as he swings the ball bag.

WALTER

Still worrying the ear. With a tearing sound his head and
Uli's separate.

ULI, EARLESS, SCREAMS.

Walter spits his ear into the air, the camera follows it up.


THE THIRD MAN (to the dude off camera)
VEAKLING! I FUCK YOU!

Walter draws back his fist.

WALTER
ANTI-SEMITE!

Bam!--A powerhouse blow to the middle of his face drops Uli
for the count.

The second Nihilist is still pulling himself along on his stomach.

DUDE AND THIRD NIHILIST

The Dude and the third Nihilist, both now panting heavily, have yet to
establish body contact. The Nihilist continues to kick.

THE THIRD MAN
I FUCK YOU IN THE ASS!
I FUCK YOU IN THE ASS!

Finally he summons the nerve to charge the Dude,
hands raised to deliver karate blows.

THE THIRD MAN
I FUCK YOU. I FUCK YOU.
I FUCK YOU. I FUCK--

WHHAP--the boom box swings into frame to smash him in the face.
Walter then bashes him in the back and he falls forward.

All quiet.

Walter, panting, looks around.

WALTER
We've got a man down, Dude.

He and the Dude run over to where
Donny, lies gasping on the ground.

DUDE
God! They shot him, man!

WALTER
He's not shot. No Dude.

DUDE
They shot Donny?

Donny gasps for air.

WALTER
There weren't any shots fired.

DUDE
Huh?

WALTER
It's a heart attack.
Call the medics, Dude.
I'd go myself but I'm pumping
blood. Might pass out.

The Dude runs into the lanes. Walter cradles
Donny's shoulders with his right arm. He pats
a reassuring left hand on Donny's chest and sholder.

WALTER
Rest easy, good buddy, you're doing
fine. We got help choppering in.

FADE OUT

HOLD IN BLACK

THE DUDE AND WALTER

---

They sit side by side. We hear footsteps coming up a
cavernous stair well. Walter is reading what appears
to be a Bible that was on the mortuary Director's desk.
The Dude is sitting very still, gazing up at a Psalm
that is on a marble wall, in six inch gold letters, behind
the desk. It says,

AS FOR MAN, HIS DAYS ARE AS GRASS, AS A FLOWER OF THE FIELD.
SO HE FLORISHETH, FOR THE WIND PASSETH OVER IT AND IT IS GONE.
PS 103.15

A tall thin man in a conservative black suit enters.

MAN
Hello, gentlemen. You are the
bereaved?

DUDE
Yeah man.

MAN
Francis Donnelly. Pleased to meet
you.

DUDE
Jeff Lebowski.

WALTER
Walter Sobchak.

DUDE
The Dude, actually. It's uh...

DONNELLY
Excuse me?

DUDE
Aw, nothing.

DONNELLY
Yes. I understand you're taking
away the remains.

WALTER
Yeah.

DONNELLY
We have the urn.

He nods to his right.

DONNELLY
And I assume this is credit card?

He is vaguely handing a large leather folder across the desk
to whomever wants to take it.

WALTER
Yeah.

He takes it, opens it, removes his glasses, and inspects
the bill with his head pulled back for focus and cocked
for concentration. Silence. The Dude smiles at Donnelly.
Donnelly gives back a mortician's smile.

WALTER
UTHUMMm.

At length Walter places the folder on the desk with bill
facing Donnelly, pointing.

WALTER
What's this?

DONNELLY
That's for the urn.

WALTER
Don't need it. We're scattering the
ashes.

DONNELLY
Yes, so we were informed. However,
we must of course transmit the remains
to you in a receptacle.

WALTER
This is a hundred and eighty dollars.

DONNELLY
It is our most modestly priced receptacle.

DUDE
Uh, well can we just uh--

WALTER
A hundred and eighty dollars?!

DONNELLY
They range up to three thousand.

WALTER
Uh, we're uh--Uhmm.

DUDE
Can't, can't we just rent it from you man?

DONNELLY
Sir, this is a mortuary, not a rental
house.

WALTER
We're scattering the fucking ashes!

DUDE
Walter, Walter, Walter--

WALTER
WHAT JUST BECAUSE WE'RE BEREAVED DOESN'T
MEAN WE'RE SAPS!

Walter hits the desk with his fist.

DONNELLY
Sir, please lower your voices.

DUDE
Man, don't you have, you know, something
uh, else we can put 'im in? You know?

DONNELLY
That is our most modestly priced
receptacle.

WALTER
GODDAMNIT!! Is there a Ralph's around here?


POINT DUME -- DAY

It is a high, wind-swept bluff. Walter and the Dude walk
towards the lip of the bluff.

Walter is carrying a bright red coffee can with a blue plastic
lid. When they reach the edge the two men stand awkwardly
for a beat. Finally:

WALTER
Donny was a good bowler, and a good
man. He was. . . He was one of us.
He was a man who loved the outdoors,
and bowling, and as a surfer he explored
the beaches of southern California,

Walter extends his hand out palm up to point at the beach below.

WALTER
from La Jolla...

Walter moves his hand to the north.

WALTER
...to Leo Carillo and up to Pismo.
He died--he died as so many young men
of his generation, before his time.
In your wisdom Lord you took him.
As you took so many bright flowering
young men, at Khe San and Lan Doc...

The Dude shakes his head in disgust.

WALTER
...and Hill 364. These young men gave
their lives. And so'd Donny.
Donny who loved bowling.

Walter holds the Folger's coffee can up in both hands.

WALTER
And so, Theodore--Donald--Karabotsos,
in accordance with what we think
your dying wishes might well have
been, we commit your final mortal remains
to the bosom of...

Walter takes the can in his right hand and waves
it at the ocean from left to right and back again.

WALTER
...the Pacific Ocean, which
you loved so well.

Walter peels the plastic lid off the coffee can.

WALTER
Goodnight, sweet prince.

AS HE SHAKES OUT THE ASHES:

The wind has blown most of the ashes into the Dude, standing
just to the side of and behind Walter. The Dude stands,
frozen. Finished eulogizing, Walter looks down at his shirt
and brushes some of the ashes off his shirt.

WALTER
Shit.

Walter turns around and sees the ashes all over the Dude.

WALTER
Oh shit Dude, I'm sorry.

He starts brushing off the Dude with his hands.

WALTER
Goddamn wind. Fuck.

Heretofore motionless, the Dude finally explodes, slapping
Walter's hands away.

DUDE
Goddamnit Walter! You fucking
asshole!

WALTER
Shit! Dude, I'm sorry!

The Dude gives Walter a furious shove.

DUDE
Everything's a fucking
travesty with you man!

WALTER
Look Dude, I'm sorry. It was an accident!

DUDE
What was zat-- What was that shit about Vietnam!

WALTER
Look Dude, I'm sorry--

DUDE
What the fuck does anything have to
do with Vietnam! What the fuck
are you talking about?!

Walter for the first time is genuinely distressed, almost
lost.

WALTER
Dude, I'm sorry.

DUDE
Fuckin'--

He gives Walter a weaker shove. Walter seems dazed, then
wraps his arms around the Dude.

DUDE
Fuck Walter.

WALTER
Come on Dude. Hey fuck it man. Let's go bowling.

THE LANES

We hear 'Send Me Dead Flowers' playing on the jukebox, as
the camera focuses on a lane and as it follows a bowling ball
down the lane into a strike. The view changes to back of the
pin setter and the mechanics involved in resetting the pins.

The far end of the bowling alley is closed and a man is
cleaning one of the lanes. In the center, a lone bowler
rolls a strike as The Dude walks up to the bar.

DUDE
Two oat sodas, Gary.

GARY
Right. Good luck tomorrow.

DUDE
Yeah. Thanks, man.

GARY
Aw, sorry to hear about Donny.

DUDE
Ah, yeah. Well, you know, sometimes you
eat the bar, and, sometimes uh, you know...

The Dude turns to his left and notices the 'Stranger'
sitting at the bar.

DUDE
Hey man.

THE STRANGER
Howdy do, Dude.

DUDE
I wondered if I'd see you again.

THE STRANGER
I Wouldn't miss the semis.

DUDE
Oh yeah?

THE STRANGER
How things been goin'?

DUDE
Ahh, you know. Strikes and gutters,
ups and downs.

The bartender has put two gleaming beers on the counter.
The Stranger's eyes crinkle merrily.

THE STRANGER
Sure, I gotcha.

DUDE
Yeah. Thanks, Gary...Well take care, man,
gotta get back.

THE STRANGER
Sure. Take it easy, Dude--

DUDE
Oh yeah.

THE STRANGER
I know that you will.

THE DUDE, LEAVING, HOLDS UP HIS ARMS AND NODS:

DUDE
Yeah. Well, the Dude abides.

THE STRANGER
heh heh.

The dude leaves and walks back to the lanes and holds up the beers.

DUDE
Walter.

Gazing after him, The Stranger drawls, savoring the words:

THE STRANGER
The Dude abides...


He gives his head a shake of appreciation, then looks into
the camera.

THE STRANGER
I don't know about you, but I take
comfort in that. It's good knowin'
he's out there, the Dude, takin' her
easy for all us sinners. Shoosh. I
sure hope he makes The finals. Welp,
that about does her, wraps her all
up. Things seem to've worked out
pretty good for the Dude'n Walter,
and it was a purt good story, dontcha
think? Made me laugh to beat the
band. Parts, anyway. I didn't
like seein' Donny go. But then,
I happen to know that there's a
little Lebowski on the way. I guess
that's the way the whole durned human
comedy keeps perpetuatin' it-self,
down through the generations, westward
the wagons, across the sands a time
until we-- aw, look at me, I'm ramblin'
again. Wal, uh hope you folks enjoyed
yourselves.

He brushes his hat brim with a fingertip as we begin to pull
back.

THE STRANGER
Catch ya later on down the trail.

As we pull away The Stranger swivels in to the bar. As his
voice fades:

THE STRANGER
...Say friend, ya got any more of
that good sarsaparilla?...

A lone bowler rolls a strike?

BLACK

MUSIC

CREDITS


THE END

 
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Old 06-13-2007, 04:06 AM   #70
Ol' Couch Ass
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Reading the script for the Big Lebowski is almost as great as watching the movie itself.

 
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Old 06-13-2007, 06:12 AM   #71
aurel
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Quoting shutdown.

 
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Old 06-13-2007, 08:22 AM   #72
Shapan
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shut the fuck up donnie

 
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