As Good as It Gets Page #2

SIMON:

Go ahead, John, you earned your fun.

(looking at Verdell)

How did he get down in the

basement? I mean even if he got

on the elevator how... ?

HANDYMAN:

Maybe some nice neighbor shoved

him down the garbage chute.

SIMON:

My God! No!

He stares out... Frank frustrated following.

INT. MELVIN'S APARTMENT - OFFICE - NIGHT

Quiet -- safe -- just Melvin's voice reading aloud as he

writes.

MELVIN:

'Somewhat in the dark, she had

confessed and he had forgiven.

This is what you live for, he

said. Two heads on a pillow where

there is only the safety of being

with each other. How, she

wondered, could she find such hope

in the most shameful part of her.'

He barely reacts as we hear a LOUD KNOCKING at he reads.

SIMON (O.S.)

Mr. Udall.

But Melvin's into it. His fingers flying as he reads.

MELVIN:

'At last she was able to define

love. Love was... '

More KNOCKING.

SIMON (O.S.)

Mr. Udall, I'd like to talk to you

please.

MELVIN:

'Love was... '

He almost has the rest of the sentence -- the meaning of

love -- but the knocking throws him.

MELVIN:

... Son-of-a-b*tch-pansy-assed-

stool-pusher.

He burst from his chair.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING (NEW YORK) - HALLWAY - NIGHT

As Simon hears MELVIN through the door and takes a step

back. Melvin throws open the door. He looks demonic.

MELVIN:

(loud and angry)

Yeeeess!!!

SIMON:

Maybe this can wait.

Frank signals encouragement as Melvin opens the door.

SIMON:

I found Verdell, Mr. Udall.

MELVIN:

Well, that's a load off.

Melvin walks back into the apartment and is about to

close the door when Simon has another burst of bravery.

SIMON:

Did you... do something to him?

MELVIN:

Do you realize that I work at

him?

SIMON:

(eyes downcast)

No, I didn't.

MELVIN:

Do you like to be interrupt when

you are danging around in your

little garden?

SIMON:

No... actually, I even shut the

phone off and put a little piece

of cardboard in the ringer so no

one can just buzz me from d...

MELVIN:

Well, I work all the time. So

never, never again interrupt me.

Okay? I mean, never. Not 30

years from now... not if there's

fire. Not even if you hear a thud

from inside my home and a week

later there's a smell from in

there that can only come from a

decaying body and you have to hold

a hanky against your face because

the stench is so thick you think

you're going to faint even then

don't come knocking or, if it's

election night and you're excited

and want to celebrate because some

fudge-packer you dated has been

elected the first queer President

of the United States... and he's

going to put you up in Camp David

and you just want to share the

moment with someone... don't knock

... not on this door. Not for

anything. Got me. Sweetheart?

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