Roadgames Page #4

---

a hitchhiker last night,

and then about

4:
30 this morning

he watched the garbage

bags being collected

outside the motel,

and now he's burying

more garbage.

Doesn't that seem a

little weird to you, lady?

- You truck drivers

take drugs, don't you?

You've got the DDTs.

- Cast to the wind

thy ghastly sin.

- Pardon?

- That's it.

The ghastly sin is dissipated.

Erased from existence,

and another thing a body wouldn't

last half a day out here

with all the birds

and the insects.

- I don't know what

you're talking about.

- I'm talking about sex.

I am talking about sex.

Stolen from a young girl

in the back of a van

or a seedy motel.

I'm talking about guilt.

Terrible guilt.

Awful guilt.

A guilt so terrible that

it can only be obliterated

by spreading the evidence

all over the countryside.

Jesus.

- I think I'd like

to get out here.

- No, wait, wait a minute,

now don't be silly.

Now, listen, what exactly

did they say about this guy

on the news?

- I don't know what you

mean, I don't know anything.

- Hey, now come on, lady,

you're supposed to be

the authority on weirdos.

Now, come on, help me out.

It was something about

Jack the Ripper or...

- I don't know what

you're talking about!

- I'm just talking about

a hunch, that's all.

- I wanna get out!

- Wait, wait, wait,

first, I've got a game.

- I don't wanna play.

- It's animal.

No!

- It's bigger than a breadbox,

but it's small enough to fit

in a plastic rubbish bag.

- That is a sick game.

A human being is not an animal!

I know what you're thinking

and it wouldn't fit

in a rubbish bag!

- Oh, yes, it would if

you cut off the damn head!

- Stop it!

(sobbing)

Hey, lady!

Lady!

Lady, stop!

(terrifying orchestral music)

Now, lady, I am not gonna

hurt you, I promise.

Listen, you stopped me

on the road, remember?

I'm just a truck driver.

I know I talk a lot and I'm

given the flights of the

imagination, but there's

no need to be afraid of me.

Lady, please, lets just

go back to the truck, okay?

- We don't want trouble,

we never wanted trouble.

- Yeah, but who does?

- Then they threatened

my children.

Horrible phone calls late at

night, they killed our dog.

When the police came,

they said the strike

was Floyd's fault.

We've got our own problems,

mister, we don't need

anybody else's.

I didn't see any man

back there, understand?

- Yeah, I think I do.

No vans or lunch boxes or

anything to do with police

and no more games.

- Right.

No more games.

Hello, hello, I'm trying to

get in touch with the nearest

police station.

Right, right, hold on a second.

Hello, my name is Quid, and I'm

calling from the roadhouse

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes