The Producers Page #4

BIALYSTOCK TAKES CHECK AND READS IT.

LITTLE OLD LADY:

Is it all right? I made it out to

cash. You didn't tell me the name

of the play.

BIALYSTOCK:

Oh, it's fine. Fine. Good. Good.

Bye. Bye.

LITTLE OLD LADY:

Til Thursday, my Darling, I shall

count the minutes.

SHE STARTS TO DESCEND.

LITTLE OLD LADY:

(descending)

Ta. Ta.

BIALYSTOCK:

(waving check at her)

Ta. Ta.

THE MAN, WHO HAS BEEN LURKING IN THE SECOND DOORWAY, SUDDENLY

SPRINGS INTO ACTION. HE DARTS FORWARD AND QUICKLY TAKES THE

CHECK OUT OF BIALYSTOCK'S HAND.

THE MAN (LANDLORD)

He who signs a lease, must pay rent.

HE SHOVES THE CHECK INTO HIS POCKET AND STARTS DOWN THE

STAIRS.

LANDLORD:

That's the law.

BIALYSTOCK:

Murderer! Thief! How can you take

the last penny out of a man's pocket?

11.

LANDLORD:

(turns back, shrugs)

I have to ... I'm a landlord!

BIALYSTOCK:

(shouting to heaven)

Oh Lord, hear my plea. Destroy him.

He maketh a blight on the land.

CUT TO LANDLORD ON THE WAY DOWN.

LANDLORD:

(to the Lord)

Don't pay attention. He's crazy.

CUT BACK TO BIALYSTOCK. HE TURNS TO RE-ENTER HIS OFFICE.

BIALYSTOCK:

(biting his knuckle)

Nnnnn. That hurt.

(he sighs)

I'll have to make another call.

HE STARTS IN AND STOPS. HE NOTICES BLOOM.

BIALYSTOCK:

(to Bloom, quietly)

Have you been there all this time?

BLOOM NODS.

BIALYSTOCK:

And did you see and hear everything?

BLOOM NODS.

BIALYSTOCK:

Then what do you have to say for

yourself?

BLOOM:

Uh ... uh ... ooooooops?

BIALYSTOCK:

(shouts)

Who are you? What do you want?

Why are you loitering in my hallway?

Speak, dummy, speak! Why don't you

speak?

BLOOM:

Scared. Can't talk.

12.

BIALYSTOCK:

All right. Get a hold of yourself.

Take a deep breath, let it out

slowly and tell me who you are.

BLOOM:

(breathes deeply.

Words tumble from his

mouth as he exhales)

I'm Leo Bloom, I'm an accountant,

I'm from Whitehall and Marks, I was

sent here to do your books and I'm

terribly sorry I caught you with

the old lady.

(he has run out of breath)

BIALYSTOCK:

"Caught you with the old lady."

Come in, Mr. Tact.

CUT TO OFFICE. THEY ENTER. BLOOM ENTERS TIMOROUSLY. HE

DOESN'T KNOW QUITE WHERE TO GO. HE LOOKS TO BIALYSTOCK FOR

GUIDANCE. BIALYSTOCK STUDIES BLOOM CURIOUSLY FROM HEAD TO

TOE.

BIALYSTOCK:

So you're an accountant, eh?

BLOOM:

(timidly)

Yes sir.

BIALYSTOCK:

Then account for yourself! Do you

believe in God? Do you believe in

gold? Why are you looking up old

lady's dresses? Bit of a pervert,

eh?

BLOOM, WHO HAS BEEN QUAKING UNDER THE ASSAULT, REACHES INTO

HIS POCKET AND TAKES OUT THE TATTERED CORNER OF AN OLD BLUE

BABY BLANKET. HE TWISTS THE BLUE BLANKET NERVOUSLY IN HIS

HANDS.

BLOOM:

Sir, I ...

BIALYSTOCK:

Never mind. Never mind. Do the

books. They're in that desk over

there. Top drawer.

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