DAY. ELEVATED SUBWAY TRAIN
Against the backdrop of the Manhattan skyline, we see an elevated
subway train heading toward Brooklyn.
After a moment, we begin to hear voices. An animated discussion is
taking place inside the Brooklyn Cigar Company.
DAY. THE BROOKLYN CIGAR CO.
The cigar shop from within. Displays of cigar boxes, a wall of
magazines, piles of newspapers. cigarettes, smoking paraphernalia. On
the walls, we see framed black-and-white photographs of people smoking
Groucho Marx, George Burns, Clint Eastwood, Edward G. Robinson,
Orson Welles, Charles Laughton, Frankenstein's monster, Leslie Caron,
Words appear on the screen: "SUMMER 1990."
AUGGIE WREN is behind the counter. Somewhere between forty and fifty
years old, AUGGIE is a scruffy presence: unkempt hair, a two-day
stubble of beard, dressed in blue jeans and a black T-shirt. We see an
intricate tattoo on one arm.
It is a slow hour. AUGGIE is flipping through a photography magazine.
Near the counter are the three OTB MEN. These are local characters who
like to hang out in the store, shooting the breeze with AUGGIE. One is
black (TOMMY) and the other two are white (JERRY and DENNIS). DENNIS
wears a T-shirt with the following words printed across the front: "If
life is a dream, what happens when I wake up?"
I'll tell you why they're not going anywhere.
Yeah? And why is that?
Management. Those guys are walking around with
their heads up their asses.
They made some great deals. Tommy. Hernandez.
Carter. Without those two, there never woulda
been no World Series.
That was four years ago. I'm talking about now.
(Growing more intense)
Look who they got rid of. Mitchell. Backman.
McDowell. Dykstra. Aguillera. Mookie. Mookie
Wilson, for Chrissakes.
(Shakes his head)
And Nolan Ryan. Don't forget him.
Yeah. And Amos Otis.
Okay, joke about it. I don't give a shit.
Jesus, Tommy, it ain't science, you know. You
got your good trades and your bad trades.
That's how it works.
They didn't have to do a thing, that's all I'm
saying. The team was good, the best fucking
team in baseball. But then they had to screw it
They traded their birthright for a mess of
(Shakes his head)
A mess of porridge.
The bells on the door jangle as someone enters. It is AUGGIE'S protégé,
JIMMY ROSE, a mentally retarded man in his late twenties. He has been
sweeping the sidewalk outside the store and holds a broom in his right
How'd you do out there, Jimmy?
Good, Auggie. Real good.
(Proudly thrusts out broom)
It'll never be finished.
That's how it is with sidewalks. People come,
people go, and they all drop shit on the
ground. As soon as you clean up one spot and
move on to the next, the first spot is dirty
(Trying to digest AUGGIE'S comment)
I just do what you tell me, Auggie. You tell me
to sweep, so I sweep.
The bells on the door jangle again, and a customer enters the store: a
middle-class man in his early thirties. He walks to the counter as
JERRY teases JIMMY. In the background, we see him talking to AUGGIE.
AUGGIE pulls some cigar boxes out of the display case and puts them on
the counter for the YOUNG MAN to inspect. In the foreground we see:
Hey, Jimmy. You got the time?
(Turning to the SECOND OTB MAN)
You still have that watch Auggie gave you?
(Holds up left wrist showing
cheap digital watch. Smiles)
So what's the time?
(Pause, marveling as
the numbers change)
(Looks up, smiling)
A sudden outburst is heard from the area near the counter.
The focus of the scene shifts to AUGGIE and the YOUNG MAN.
They don't come cheap, son. These little honeys
are works of art. Rolled by hand in a tropical
climate, most likely by an eighteen year old
girl in a thin cotton dress with no underwear
on. Little beads of sweat forming in her naked
cleavage. The smooth, delicate fingers nimbly
turning out one masterpiece after another...
And how much are these?
Seventy-eight dollars. The girl who rolled these
was probably wearing panties.
Fifty-six. That girl had on a corset.