Full Metal Jacket Page #2

HARTMAN:

Did your parents have any children that lived?

PYLE:

Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN:

I'll bet they regret that! You're so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece! What's your name, fatbody?

PYLE:

Sir, Leonard Lawrence, sir!

HARTMAN:

Lawrence? Lawrence, what, of Arabia?

PYLE:

Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN:

That name sounds like royalty! Are you royalty?

PYLE:

Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN:

Do you suck d*cks?

PYLE:

Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN:

Bullshit! I'll bet you could suck a golf ball through a garden hose!

PYLE:

Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN:

I don't like the name Lawrence! Only faggots and sailors are called Lawrence! From now on you're Gomer Pyle!

PYLE:

Sir, yes, sir!

PYLE has the trace of a strange smile on his face.

HARTMAN:

Do you think I'm cute, Private Pyle? Do you think I'm funny?

PYLE:

Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN:

Then wipe that disgusting grin off your face!

PYLE:

Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN:

Well, any f***ing time, sweetheart!

PYLE:

Sir, I'm trying, sir.

HARTMAN:

Private Pyle, I'm gonna give you three seconds--excactly three f***ing seconds--to wipe that stupid-looking grin off your face, or I will gouge out your eyeballs and skull-f*** you! One! Two! Three!

PYLE purses his lips but continues to smile involuntarily.

PYLE:

Sir, I can't help it, sir!

HARTMAN:

Bullshit! Get on your knees, scumbag!

PYLE gets down on his knees.

HARTMAN:

Now choke yourself!

PYLE places his hands around his throat as if to choke himself.

HARTMAN:

Goddamn it, with my hand, numbnuts!

PYLE reaches for HARTMAN's hand. HARTMAN jerks it away.

HARTMAN:

Don't pull my f***ing hand over there! I said choke yourself! Now lean forward and choke yourself!

PYLE leans forward so that his neck rests in HARTMAN's open hand.

HARTMAN chokes PYLE.

PYLE gags and starts to turn red in the face.

HARTMAN:

Are you through grinning?

PYLE:

(barely able to speak) Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN:

Bullshit! I can't hear you!

PYLE:

(gasping) Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN:

Bullshit! I still can't hear you! Sound off like you got a pair!

PYLE:

(gagging) Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN:

That's enough! Get on your feet!

HARTMAN releases PYLE's throat. PYLE gets to his feet, breathing heavily.

HARTMAN:

Private Pyle, you had best square your ass away and start shitting me Tiffany cuff links ... or I will definitely f*** you up!

PYLE:

Sir, yes, sir!

3 EXT. PARRIS ISLAND--DAY

The training platoon is double-timing in formation. HARTMAN is calling cadence.

HARTMAN:

. . right, left, right, left! Left, right, left,

right, left! Left, right, left, right, left!

JOKER:

(narration)

Parris Island, South Carolina.... the United

States

Marine Corps Recruit Depot. An eightweek

college for the

phony-tough and the

crazy-brave.

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