Get Shorty Page #6

EXT. KAREN FLORES' HOUSE -- NIGHT

All the lights are out, save the BLUE GLOW of a television

coming from one of the downstairs rooms . . .

WOMAN'S VOICE

(loud whisper)

Harry?

INT. KAREN FLORES' BEDROOM -- NIGHT

As KAREN FLORES, pretty, endowed, sits up in bed wearing a

Lakers T-shirt, nothing else. She looks at the big shape

lying under the covers beside her.

KAREN:

Harry.

The shape deesn't move. She shakes it.

KAREN:

Harry, God damn it, somebody's downstairs.

The shape stirs, rolls over, and we see HARRY ZIMM, balding,

overweight; a movie producer. He sits up.

HARRY:

What's wrong?

KAREN:

Be quiet and listen.

HARRY:

I don't hear anything.

We hear VOICES downstairs.

KAREN:

Shhh -- there.

And now LAUGHTER . . .

HARRY:

Sounds like the television.

She looks at him . . .

KAREN:

When I came upstairs, you stayed to finish your drink. I

told you to turn off the TV when you were through.

(an afterthought)

Come to think of it, I also told you you could sleep in the

maid's room.

HARRY:

Yeah, well I turned off the set. I used the remote control

thing and laid it on the floor. You know what could've

happened? The dog came in and stepped on it, turned the TV

back on.

KAREN:

I don't have a dog.

HARRY:

You don't? What happened to Muff?

KAREN:

Harry, are you going down, or you want me to?

He grunts, gets out of bed. Starts looking around the room

for his clothes. Harry looks out the window . . .

HARRY:

Anyone skim the pool? It needs it.

KAREN:

Harry --

HARRY:

I'm going.

INT. HALLWAY -- SAME TIME

The MONOTONE VOICES become louder and more distinct as Harry

moves down the curved staircase in his shirt and boxer

shorts. One of the voices is familiar . . .

We can see this is a nice place as Harry crosses the entry

hall to a doorway, the FLICKERING LIGHT of the television

emitting from inside the room.

Harry listens at the door. Yeah, it's David Letterman.

INT. KAREN'S STUDY -- SAME TIME

Harry moves into the glow of the big Sony, the rest of the

room dark. On the tube, Dave is interviewing actor Martin

Weir when suddenly the screen goes black and the desk lamp

comes on. Harry jumps . . .

HARRY:

Jesus Christ!

Chili leans into the light, keeps his tone quiet,

controlled.

CHILI:

Harry Zimm, how you doing? I'm Chili Palmer.

Harry presses a hand against his chest.

HARRY:

Jesus, if I have a heart attack, I hope you know what to do.

CHILI:

Where you been, Harry?

Harry lets his hand slide down over his belly, taking his

time, wanting to show that he has it together now.

HARRY:

Have we met? I don't recall.

CHILI:

We just did. I told you my name's Chili Palmer.

Harry stares back, trying to figure out who this guy is.

HARRY:

You're in pictures, right?

Chili smiles. Doesn't say anything.

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