Out of Sight Page #5

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BUDDY:

Ref don't call it pretty soon, Snoopy's

gonna send this guy out in a body bag.

Foley watches a MAN -- fifties, out of place, not as hard-looking

as those around him. The guy looks nervous, can feel the other

cons' eyes on him as he tries to find a seat.

The BELL SOUNDS and the white boxer staggers to his feet.

Maurice steps in and resumes the bloody pummelling. Foley turns

and watches the fight now...

FOLEY:

Anyone ever tell you why they call him

Snoopy?

Buddy shakes his head. Maurice dances around the other guy

now. Teases him.

FOLEY (CONT'D)

He was Maurice "Mad Dog" Miller back

when he was pro. Now you pet him, he

goes down.

The white guy throws a tired, loping roundhouse that barely

glances off Maurice's jaw. Sure enough, Maurice makes a big

show out of snapping his head back, staggering, before he finally

goes down.

BUDDY:

I don't believe it.

Foley watches the new inmate as fights erupt all around him

and, anxious now, he tries to get out of there.

EXT. PRISON YARD - DAY

Foley and Buddy sit atop a cement picnic table watching as

nearby, the "winning" BOXER -- still wearing last night's

pummelling on his face -- gloats to a group of cons. He throws

a fake punch at one of them as he demonstrates his winning

technique...

BUDDY:

Guy's braggin' he won a thrown fight.

F***in' pathetic.

Foley looks at the other side of the yard where Maurice now

stands at the far side of the yard coldly watching the guy, one

hand thrust into his pocket. Foley watches as Maurice stops

the NEW INMATE -- the older guy who looked out of place at the

fights -- as he comes out into the yard.

FOLEY:

It's Richard Ripley.

BUDDY:

(looking now)

The Wall Street guy? Oh, yeah. I

didn't recognize him without his rug.

Foley watches as Maurice talks to the new inmate, the guy

nodding, acquiescent, respectful.

FOLEY:

Dick the Ripper they called him, on

account of all the people he ripped

off.

Foley watches as Ripley now makes a note in a BLACK BOOK.

BUDDY:

What's he doin' here?

GLENN (OS)

Three years.

They look to where Glenn Michaels, the blond guy in dark shades

we saw in Maurice's corner, works out on the bench press a few

feet away. He's shirtless, tan, in shape.

GLENN:

He got three years and fined fifty

million dollars and wrote 'em a f***ing

check. Like that, fifty mil, signed

his name.

(struggles with the

bar)

Whoa-- little help here!

FOLEY:

Who you talkin' to, Studs? Me, or

Buddy. I can't tell, you got those

shades on.

GLENN:

You guys-- come on-- this is too heavy!

FOLEY:

I guess the bright glare out here made

it hard to see the numbers on the

weights.

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