FARGO
FARGO a screenplay by Ethan Coen and Joel Coen
GUSTAFSON OLD GARAGE Jerry wanders through the service area where cars are being worked on. He stops by an Indian in blue jeans who is looking at the underside of a car that sits on a hydraulic lift with a cage light hanging off its innards. JERRY Say, Shep, how ya doin' there? SHEP Mm. JERRY Say, ya know those two fellas ya put me in touch with, up there in Fargo? SHEP Put you in touch with Grimsrud. JERRY Well, yah, but he had a buddy there. He, uh - SHEP Well, I don't vouch for him. JERRY Well, that's okay, I just - SHEP I vouch for Grimsrud. Who's his buddy? JERRY Carl somethin'? SHEP Never heard of him. Don't vouch for him. JERRY Well, that's okay, he's a buddy of the guy ya vouched for, so I'm not worryin'. I just, I was wonderin', see, I gotta get in touch with 'em for, I might not need it anymore, sumpn's happenin', see - SHEP Call 'em up. JERRY Yah, well, see, I did that, and I haven't been able to get 'em, so I thought you maybe'd know an alternate number or what have ya. SHEP Nope. Jerry slaps his fist into his open palm and snaps his fingers. JERRY Okay, well, real good, then.
FOYER Once again we are looking at the rumpled shower curtain. From another room: JERRY Yah, Wade, I - it's Jerry, I. Then, slightly more agitated. JERRY ... Yah, Wade, it's, I, it's Jerry... Beat. JERRY ... Wade, it's Jerry, I - we gotta talk, Wade, it's terrible... Beat. LIVING ROOM Jerry stands in wide shot, hands on hips, looking down at a telephone. After a motionless beat he picks up the phone and punches in a number. JERRY ... Yah, Wade Gustafson, please. BLACK
JERRY LUNDEGAARD'S OFFICE Jerry is at his desk using a blunt pencil to enter numbers onto a form. Beneath the form is a piece of carbon paper and beneath that another form copy, which Jerry periodically checks. The carbon-copy form shows thick smudgy, illegible entries. Jerry hums nervously. Glass rattles as someone taps at his door. Jerry looks up and freezes, mouth hanging open, brow knit with worry. Marge sticks her head in the door. MARGE Mr. Lundegaard? Sorry to bother you again. Can I come in? She starts to enter. JERRY Yah, no, I'm kinda - I'm kinda busy - MARGE I unnerstand. I'll keep it real short, then. I'm on my way out of town, but I was just - Do you mind if I sit down? I'm carrying a bit of a load here. JERRY No, I - But she is already sitting into the chair opposite with a sigh of relieved weight. MARGE Yah, it's this vehicle I asked you about yesterday. I was just wondering - JERRY Yah, like I told ya, we haven't had any vehicles go missing. MARGE Okay, are you sure, cause, I mean, how do you know? Because, see, the crime I'm investigating, the perpetrators were driving a car with dealer plates. And they called someone who works here, so it'd be quite a coincidence if they weren't, ya know, connected. JERRY Yah, I see. MARGE So how do you - have you done any kind of inventory recently? JERRY The car's not from our lot, ma'am. MARGE but do you know that for sure without - JERRY Well, I would know. I'm the Executive Sales Manager. MARGE Yah, but - JERRY We run a pretty tight ship here. MARGE I know, but - well, how do you establish that, sir? Are the cars, uh, counted daily or what kind of - JERRY Ma'am, I answered your question. There is a silent beat. MARGE ... I'm sorry, sir? JERRY Ma'am, I answered your question. I answered the darn - I'm cooperating here, and I... MARGE Sir, you have no call to get snippy with me. I'm just doin' my job here. JERRY I'm not, uh, I'm not arguin' here. I'm cooperating... There's no, uh - we're doin' all we can... He trails off into silence. MARGE Sir, could I talk to Mr. Gustafson? Jerry stares at her. MARGE ... Mr. Lundegaard? Jerry explodes: JERRY Well, heck, if you wanna, if you wanna play games here! I'm workin' with ya on this thing, but I... He is getting angrily off his feet. JERRY Okay, I'll do a damned lot count! MARGE Sir? Right now? JERRY Sure right now! You're darned tootin'! He is yanking his parka from a hook behind the opened door and grabbing a pair of galoshes. JERRY ... If it's so damned important to ya! MARGE I'm sorry, sir, I - Jerry has the parka slung over one arm and the galoshes pinched in his hand. JERRY Aw, what the Christ! He stamps out the door. Marge stares. After a long moment her stare breaks. She glances idly around the office. There is a framed picture facing away from her on the desktop. She turns it to face her. It is Scotty, holding an accordion. There is another picture of Jean. Marge looks at it, looks around, for some reason, at the ceiling. She looks at a trophy shelf on the wall behind her. She fiddles idly with a pencil. She pulls a clipboard toward her. It holds a form from the General Motors Finance Corporation. She looks idly around. Her look abruptly locks. MARGE ... Oh, for Pete's sake. Jerry is easing his car around the near corner of the building. Marge's voice is flat with dismay: MARGE ... Oh, for Pete's sake... She grabs the phone and punches in a number. MARGE ... For Pete's s- he's fleein' the interview. He's fleein' the interview... Jerry makes a left turn into traffic. MARGE ... Detective Sibert, please...
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