The Producers Page #2

LITTLE OLD LADY:

Meeow. Meeow. I wonder where Old

Tom is tonight? Meeow.

BIALYSTOCK, WITH GREAT WILL, PUSHES THE HATE OUT OF HIS FACE

AND REPLACES IT WITH SWEETNESS.

BIALYSTOCK:

Rowrrr.

BIALYSTOCK GLIDES IN TOM-CAT FASHION OVER TO HIS PREENING

P*SSY-CAT.

FREEZE-ACTION.

CREDIT.

RESUME ACTION.

BIALYSTOCK FINISHES CROSSING TO DESK, PUTS HIS FACE DOWN

NEAR HERS AND SOFTLY MEWS INTO HER EAR. SHE SUDDENLY LETS

OUT A FIERCE HOWL AS SHE REBUFFS HIM WITH A SAVAGE SWIPE OF

HER "PAW". BIALYSTOCK GRABS HIS STRICKEN FACE WITH BOTH

HANDS AND SHRIEKS.

BIALYSTOCK:

Aieeeeyiyiyiyiyi,

CLOSE-UP OF BIALYSTOCK'S PAIN-RIDDEN FEATURES.

STOP ACTION.

CREDIT.

RESUME ACTION.

BIALYSTOCK FALLS INTO THE CHAIR MOANING. SHE HOPS ON TO HIS

LAP. FROM HIS BREAST POCKET SHE TAKES A HANDKERCHIEF AND

TENDERLY DABS HIS CHEEK WITH IT.

LITTLE OLD LADY:

Oh, Bialy, Bialy, darling, did I

hurt you?

FREEZE-ACTION.

CREDIT.

RESUME ACTION.

6.

BIALYSTOCK:

My hand. My hand. I can't turn my

hand.

(he turns his hand)

THERE IS A RAPPING AT THE DOOR. WE HEAR IT, THEY DON'T.

LITTLE OLD LADY:

(taking his hand)

Don't worry. I'll kiss it and make

it well.

(she smothers his

hand with kissers)

BIALYSTOCK:

(trying to rescue his hand)

Enough. It's better. Please,

Lambchop, it's better. Stop.

You're hurting it again.

CUT TO DOOR. IT OPENS. LEO BLOOM ENTERS.

BLOOM:

(his forward motion

arrested by the

unbelievable scene)

How do you do. I mean ... Excuse

me ... I mean ...

BIALYSTOCK:

You mean ooops, don't you? Say

ooops and get out.

BLOOM:

I'll wait in the hall ...

BIALYSTOCK:

Oooooooops!

BLOOM:

(backing out of door)

Ooooooops.

LITTLE OLD LADY HOPS OFF BIALYSTOCK'S LAP AND GOES TO DOOR.

LITTLE OLD LADY:

I can't abide a peeping Tom.

There's one in the apartment just

opposite my bedroom window. I

swear that man NEVER takes his

field glasses off me for a minute.

7.

SHE LOCKS DOOR AND STARTS BACK TOWARD BIALYSTOCK.

LITTLE OLD LADY:

Feeling better?

BIALYSTOCK NODS HIS HEAD IN ASSENT.

LITTLE OLD LADY:

Good. Let's fool around. Now,

I'll be the innocent little milk

maid and you'll be the naughty

stable boy.

(she goes into her act)

Oh, this milk is so heavy. I'll

never reach the house. Help. Will

someone help me?

BIALYSTOCK:

(stopping her)

Wait. Wait. We can't play today.

I have too many appointments.

LITTLE OLD LADY:

(crushed)

We can't play today?

BIALYSTOCK:

Thursday. Thursday. We'll play

Thursday. We'll play the Contessa

and the chauffeur.

LITTLE OLD LADY:

Oh, the best one.

BIALYSTOCK:

(trying to steer her

towards the door)

Until Thursday, then, Contessa Mio.

LITTLE OLD LADY:

(she sits on the sofa)

Oh, Bialy, please, just a little.

Just a little.

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