It's a Wonderful Life Page #3

GEORGE:

With coconuts?

MARY:

I don't like coconuts.

GEORGE:

You don't like coconuts! Say, brainless, don't you know where

coconuts come from? Lookit here �� from Tahiti �� Fiji Islands,

the Coral Sea!

He pulls a magazine from his pocket and shows it to her.

MARY:

A new magazine! I never saw it before.

GEORGE:

Of course you never. Only us explorers can get it. I've been

nominated for membership in the National Geographic Society.

He leans down to finish scooping out the ice cream, his deaf ear

toward her. She leans over, speaking softly.

CLOSE SHOT �� Mary, whispering.

MARY:

Is this the ear you can't hear on? George Bailey, I'll love you

till the day I die.

She draws back quickly and looks down, terrified at what she has

said.

CLOSE SHOT �� George and Mary.

GEORGE:

I'm going out exploring some day, you watch. And I'm going to

have a couple of harems, and maybe three or four wives. Wait and

see.

He turns back to the cash register, whistling.

ANOTHER ANGLE �� taking in entrance to prescription room at end

of fountain. Gower comes to the entrance. He is bleary-eyed,

unshaven, chewing

an old unlit cigar. His manner is gruff and mean. It is evident

he has been drinking.

GOWER:

George! George!

GEORGE:

Yes, sir.

GOWER:

You're not paid to be a canary.

GEORGE:

No, sir.

He turns back to the cash register when he notices an open

telegram on the shelf. He is about to toss it aside when he

starts to read it.

INSERT:

THE TELEGRAM. It reads:

"We regret to inform you that your son, Robert, died very

suddenly this morning of influenza stop. Everything possible was

done for his comfort stop. We await

instructions from you."

Pres. HAMMERTON COLLEGE."

BACK TO SHOT. George puts the telegram down. A goodness of heart

expresses itself in a desire to do something for Gower. He gives

the ice cream to

Mary without comment and sidles back toward Gower.

INTERIOR PRESCRIPTION ROOM OF DRUGSTORE �� DAY

CLOSE SHOT �� Gower, drunk, is intent on putting some capsules

into a box.

GEORGE:

Mr. Gower, do you want something . . . Anything?

GOWER:

No.

GEORGE:

Anything I can do back here?

GOWER:

No.

George looks curiously at Gower, realizing that he is quite

drunk. Gower fumbles and drops some of the capsules to the floor.

CLOSE SHOT �� capsules spilling on floor at their feet.

BACK TO SHOT �� George and Gower.

GEORGE:

I'll get them, sir.

He picks up the capsules and puts them in the box. Gower waves

George aside, takes his old wet cigar, shoves it in his mouth and

sits in an old Morris

chair in the background. George turns a bottle around from which

Gower has taken the powder for the capsules. Its label reads

"POISON." George

stands still, horrified.

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