Autosaved backup from September 7, 2021 at 11:23 AM
Current Script
A sudden RUMBLING from the wall behind Clappy.
BOY
BOY
(SQUEAKY)
(SQUEAKY)
BOY
BOY
(SQUEAKY)
(SQUEAKY)
How about a beer, man?
How about a beer, man?
SAM
SAM
How about an I.D.?
How about an I.D.?
SAM
SAM
BOY
BOY
An I.D.? That's very flattering. Wait till I tell the missus.
An I.D.? That's very flattering. Wait till I tell the missus.
HE HANDS SAM A CARD.
HE HANDS SAM A CARD.
CHEERS: A BAR IN BOSTON, SOMEWHERE IN TOWN NEAR THE BOSTON COMMON: ATTRACTIVE, FRIEDLY TRADITIONAL DECOR, WITH A SPORTS ORIENTATION -- PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMNETOS HERE AND THERE. THE BAR IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS BUT NO CUSTOMERS OR BARTENDER ARE IN SIGHT. _SAM MALONE ENTERS_ FROM THE BACK CARRYING A BOX OF GLASSES, WHICH HE STARTS TO UNPACK. HE’S IN HIS THIRTIES WITH THE BODY OF AN EX-ATHLETE. _A YOUNG TEENAGE BOY ENTERS,_ AND SITS DOWN AT THE BAR. HE’S DRESSED IN A SUIT, TRYING TO LOOK AS OLD AS POSSIBLE.
SAM
SAM
Ah, military I.D. First Sargent James Burnes. Born 1944. That makes you 38. Must have fought in Vietnam.
Ah, military I.D. First Sargent James Burnes. Born 1944. That makes you 38. Must have fought in Vietnam.