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My name is Johnny Barrett.
I'm a reporter on the Daiy Globe.
This is my story...
as far as it went.
When was the first time
you got this urge, Mr. Barrett?
- There must have been a first time.
- When I was 14.
And when I was much younger -
that's when I got the feeling.
What gave it to you?
Tell me about her braids.
- I got excited.
- Go on.
I grabbed her braids.
Is that when you hurt her?
I never hurt her.
Did you pull on her braids?
I caressed them.
- Just -
- Did you pull on them?
Do you think I'm a fetishist?
Hell, no, Johnny!
- Let them bring up that word - not you.
You'll be facing
the best psychiatrists in the state.
They'll know when you're shamming.
I feel sorry for Doc Fong.
Professionally he knows
he's playing with dynamite.
But he just couldn't turn down
his closest friend, Swanee.
They were in psychological warfare
back in World War II.
Today, the doc's a topflight head-candler,
and Swanee's my boss...
managing editor of the Daiy Globe.
The role you'll be playing will be stronger
than your strongest imagination...
so don't ever weaken.
It'll be a daily duel between the insane
and your own sane mind.
And as for the doctors there...
lower your mast for an instant
and they'll know you're a phony.
Never let them forget
you're living on a sexual powder keg.
He's all yours, Swanee.
- Think he's ready?
- As he ever will be.
the next move is yours, Cathy.
Caressing my braids.
What a disgusting story.
What happens if they find out
I'm not really his sister?
I'll handle that.
Johnny, you've got to be crazy to want to be
committed to an insane asylum to solve a murder.
Even if I don't crack this case, honey,
my experiences alone...
- will make a book, a play or even a movie sale.
- But -
Every man wants to get
to the top of his profession.
- Mine is winning the Pulitzer Prize.
- Johnny -
- If this story doesn't do it, nothing ever will.
- But their sickness is bound to rub off on you.
I said the same thing to you
when you started singing in your skin.
- Remember, Cathy?
- That's different.
But those hookers didn't get to you, did they?
And those lunatics are not gonna get to me.
Reporters have impersonated coal miners,
school teachers, hoodlums.
Those reporters went in for a purpose.
Not to win a journalistic halo
on the cover of Life.
And not to win a cash prize and get
their pictures in Time and Newsweek.
Oh, come on, Cathy.
All you have to do is play your part.
I'm fed up.
to your rehearsed nightmare.
Why don't you smuggle aboard a rocket
and write the memoirs of an astronaut?
- You have any cigarettes, Cathy?
- Why don't you give up this psychoanalytical binge?
Because it's what people buy.
Mark Twain didn't psychoanalyze
Huck Finn or Tom Sawyer.
Dickens didn't put Oliver Twist on the couch
because he was hungry.
- Oh, come on, Cathy.
- Good copy comes out of people, Johnny...
not out of a lot of explanatory medical terms.
Oh, stop it, will you?
You're on a hopped up, show-off stage.
Get off it.
Don't be Moses leading your lunatics
to the Pulitzer Prize.
- Would you care for a cigarette?
- You make me sick!
Sick at the thought of you playing games
with your mind and riding that crazy horse.
He has been conditioned
for a whole year to ride that horse.
You've got to saddle it
and get me off and running, that's all, Cathy.
Scratch me in this race, Johnny.
We made a deal.
My whole instinct is to kick myself hard
for ever having gone into this deal with you.Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes
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"Shock Corridor" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 24 Mar. 2023. <https://www.scripts.com/script/shock_corridor_18016>.
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