The Grapes of Wrath Page #2

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DRIVER:

You ain't got to get sore.

TOM:

(coldly)

Go ahead. Ask me anything you want.

DRIVER:

I didn't mean nothing.

TOM:

Me neither. I'm just tryin' to get

along without shovin' anybody around,

that's all.

(After a pause)

See that road up ahead?

DRIVER:

Yeah.

TOM:

That's where I get off.

With a sigh of relief the driver puts his foot on the brake.

The TRUCK stops and Tom gets out. He look at the uneasy driver

contemptuously.

TOM:

You're about to bust to know what I

done, ain't you? Well, I ain't a

guy to let you down.

(Confidentially)

Homicide!

The driver throws the truck into gear. He doesn't like this

at all.

DRIVER:

I never asked you!

TOM:

(as the truck moves

away)

Sure, but you'd a throwed a fit if I

hadn't tol' you.

He looks indifferently after the truck and then starts on

foot down the dirt crossroad. A wind has begun to blow.

The scene dissolves to the roadside under a WILLOW TREE in

daylight. The wind is still blowing. Sitting on the ground,

his back against the tree, Casy, a long, lean man in overalls,

blue shirt, and one sneaker, is fixing something on the other

dirty sneaker. To the tune of "Yes, Sir, That's My Baby" he

is absent-mindedly singing.

CASY:

Mmmmm he's my saviour. Mmmmm my

saviour, Mmmmmmmmmm my saviour now.

(Looking up as Tom

comes down the road)

Howdy, friend.

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