Smokey and the Bandit Page #6

Most of the furniture is old and what isn't, is covered with

plastic. No fancy carpets or objects d'art. On the coffee

table is an open, colorfully illustrated Bible. A blonde

wood television set sits in a corner of the room. There are

a lot of toy trucks lying around and over the mantel is an

oil painting of a fancy eighteen-wheeler with an epitaph

under it reading: "I'd rather be a truck driver, than be a

millionaire..."

Bandit is trying to get into the bedroom, but his path is

being blocked by a faded Georgia beauty lost somewhere in

her thirties. Waynette Snow.

BANDIT:

(trying to get past

her)

Goddamn, Waynette; you sure do look

foxy today. If you weren't already

married, I'd...

WAYNETTE:

Don't give me that horseshit, Bandit.

You ain't seeing him.

BANDIT:

(determined)

Yes, I am.

WAYNETTE:

(equally determined)

No, you ain't.

A scrawny little Kid runs through the room, followed by an

even scrawnier mutt.

SCRAWNY KID:

Hi, Uncle Bandit.

WAYNETTE:

(turning to Kid)

He ain't your damn uncle and get

that mutt outta here. He just peed

all over my hot curlers!

Bandit takes the moment to slide past Waynette and duck into

the bedroom.

THE BEDROOM:

is dark. The venetian blinds are drawn. Bandit hurries into

the room with Waynette still hollering in the b.g.

He passes a French Provincial dresser with a small fleet of

model trucks on top and crosses to a Lump sleeping face down

on a double bed.

BANDIT:

(shaking the Lump)

Cledus.

CLEDUS:

(not moving)

No.

BANDIT:

(shaking him again)

Wake up, man; I just got us a hot

run for big bucks.

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