HUDSON HAWK

                             TORTOISE SHELL NON-SMOKER
               Can you read.... smoker?

                             HAWK
               Can you take a sunrise and
               sprinkle it with dew?

                              TORTOISE SHELL NON-SMOKER
                       (Huh?)
               No.

                              HAWK
               The Candy Man can, Felix.  You
               know, I thought this was a country
               where you could do any stupid
               thing you wanted; drive to work
               naked, make love to a V.C.R.
               Guess I'm wrong.  Maybe that's
               why I became a serial arsonist.

                             TORTOISE SHELL NON-SMOKER
               Hey, it's okay, big guy.  Smoke
               all you want.  Have mine....

     The Non-smoker fumbles out a pack of cigarettes and
     flees.  A cappuccino in cup and saucer slides down the
     bar saloon-style.  A smiling Hawk picks it up, turns away
     from the bar and closes his eyes, bringing the cup to his
     lips until a POLICE BADGE swirls into frame and splashes
     into the cup, splattering coffee over Hawk's blazer.

                             GATES (O.S.)
               You're under arrest...

     Hawk makes eye contact up to a crude, coarse, and
     cackling island of a man, OFFICER GATES, amid the sea
     of oblivious and self-obsessed yuppitude, standing by
     a table.

                             GATES
               Have a seat.  Good to see you,
               buddy ol' pal...

                             HAWK
               The pleasure's all yours, Officer
               Gates.

     BACK OF THE BAR

     With concern, Alex watches Hawk sit at Gates' table.

     GATES' TABLE

     Gates pillages a plate of spaghetti and meatballs with
     terrifying precision.  Hawk tosses the badge onto the
     food.  Gates eats around it.

                             GATES
               Why do you show your parole
               officer such disrespect?
               Especially after I got you such
               a nice job.

                             HAWK
               What job?

     Gates pulls up the black canvas bag and puts it on the
     table.

                             GATES
               The auction house, asshole.  One
               night's work and you're free like
               no ex-con's ever been.  No
               checking in with a shrink, no
               community service teaching
               retards how to play air hockey.
               It's a great deal, I can't lie.

                             HAWK
               The only thing you can't do is
               get sex for free.  I know I was
               in prison for like basically the
               80's, but, call me daffy, aren't
               you supposed to stop me from
               committing crimes.  You know,
               Book-em-Dano, Call-for-backup,
               Give-a-Hoot-Don't-Pollute.

     Gates thunders out of his chair and moves around to sneer
     down at Hawk.  Behind Gates, on the T.V. screens, are
     analogous images of DISGUSTING ANIMALS AND MONSTERS.

                             GATES
               You wouldn't be out if it wasn't
               for me!  I did dog and pony for
               you!  You think they would have
               let you out after what you did,
               you told the board members they
               looked like the Three Stooges...

                             HAWK
               How was I supposed to know they
               were women?  Besides one of them
               was bald and kept saying
               "Soitinly."

     Gates simmers into his seat with a self-control smile.

                             GATES
               Remember that guy in the cell
               next to you who hung himself?

                             HAWK
               Yes.

                             GATES
               Remember that shoe you lost...

                             HAWK
               Uh, yeah.  Cut to the chase.

     Gates pulls up a shoe and puts it on the table.

                             GATES
               One phone call and your shoe
               will become a piece of evidence
               and that suicide'll become a
               murder.

     Hawk bobs under the table and up.

                             HAWK
               What else do you got under there
               ... I don't want to be rude, but
               this is all pretty lame.

                             GATES
               That's the beauty.  It's bullshit,
               but I can make it stick because
               I'm a good guy parole officer and
               you re a bad guy who's about to
               find out that there's a thin line
               between ex-con and escape con.

     Alex suddenly approaches the table.

                             ALEX
               How is everything tonight, sir?

                             GATES
               Beat it, Alex.  You're a dinosaur.

                             HAWK
               Alex, did you know this ape was
               going to be here...

                             ALEX
               Sure.  That's why his meatballs
               are made out of marinated Chuck
               Wagon.

                             GATES
                       (mouthful)
               You're full of shit.

     As Alex speaks, an eating dog is on the screens.

                             ALEX
               No, man, actually you are.  Just
               add water and it makes its own
               gravy.  Keeps your teeth healthy
               and your coat shiny.

     Gates grabs the shoes and races off, gagging.  Hawk gets
     up to laugh next to Alex.  Their laughter dies as they
     turn to look at the black canvas bag left on the table
     between them.

     INT. BACK ROOM--DAWN

     Hawk stares mournfully at a black and white photo of a
     monkey-sized chalk-outline on a city street.  Behind him,
     Alex pulls out blueprints from the black bag.  Sinatra's
     "Witchcraft" blares on the radio....

                             ALEX
               Hmmmm.....

                             HAWK
               Yo Pandora, quit hummm-ing... look
               at this.

     Hawk is rummaging through stockpiled remnants of an old,
     "true" bar.  Round lamps, tacky mirrors, pictures of Hawk
     and the Regs at the bar.  Managing a weary smile, Hawk
     lifts a ship steering wheel, while Alex puts on a pair of
     granny classes and pulls out blueprints.

                             HAWK
               It's Captain Bob's steering wheel!
               Remember when the Captain.....

                             ALEX
               Hmmm, nasty little safe on the 7th.

     Hawk nervously picks up a Rubik's Cube and holds it
     behind his back.  He brings it back around, completed.
     Sighing, Hawk drops the cube and rubs his scalp.  Alex
     starts rubbing his stomach.  They pace in pre-job
     syncopation and speak rapid-fire.

                             HAWK
               The safe's a Simpson 71.  Last
               time I played the game, Simpson
               only had a 40.

                             ALEX
               Just means it'll take you an extra
               31 seconds to seduce.  You re
               still the best, I know it.

                             HAWK
               But you got three guards who...
               Shit, what am I doing?  Where's
               the want ads?  Gonna sell some
               spatulas.

                             ALEX
               Hey, I'm sorry, man.  I'm putting
               out a fire with kerosene.

     Alex gives Hawk a consoling two-hand-shake then jumps
     back to reveal he has put Hawk into thumbcuffs.

                             HAWK
               This isn't funny.  I'm not into
               this.  I...

                             ALEX
               There goes five seconds...My
               record's eighteen.

                             HAWK
               You're not...LISTENING!

     Out of annoyance, Hawk breaks out of the cuffs and
     violently throws them at Alex, who sits down a little
     wounded.

                             HAWK
               I'm sorr--Goddamn Mario Brothers.
               Goddamn Gates.  Goddamn Rutherford
               Auction House.  By the way, how
               many seconds?

                             ALEX
               Rutherford Auction... that name...

     Alex jumps up excitedly and then convulses in pain.

                             HAWK
               Alex!

                             ALEX
               Don't wet your diapers.  I'll have
               to change them.  "Witchcraft."
               What's the running time?

     Alex flops down behind a work table before a wallfull of
     drawings of different kinds of vaults.  He sets himself
     up for an insulin injection.

                             HAWK
               3:48.  I can't get you involved,
               man.  This is my sewage and...
                       (re drawings)
               God, you love all this, don't you,
               you bastard.  Haven't you ever
               heard of stamp collecting, or
               curling?

     Hawk leans in and administers the shot of insulin to
     Alex.

                             ALEX
               I'm in.  Have you seen the public
               service announcements for Diabetes.
               We can ride horses, play LaCrosse,
               and knock off auction houses.  I
               got a plan.  You won't have to hail
               Cesar or Gates.

     Hawk collapses next to Alex, resigned to his fate.

                             HAWK
               I'm a bum.

     EXT. NICE, BUSINESS NEIGHBORHOOD--NIGHT

     TWO GRUBBY DERELICTS, one pushing a shopping cart, the
     other inside it, situated atop the usual two Glad bags.
     They are drunkenly warbling "Witchcraft."  IMPECCABLY
     DRESSED NIGHT-LIFERS give them a wide berth.

     Our derelicts pass beneath a MASSIVE RED CANOPY of a
     distinguished eight story edifice, upon which is written
     RUTHERFORD'S AUCTION HOUSE.  A DOORMAN shoos them away...

     A NEWSPAPER TRUCK pulls up in front of the Auction House.
     The Driver pops out with a bundle of papers and moves to
     a Dispenser on the corner.  The Bums wheel around the
     truck.  The Driver loads the papers and bounds back.

     The Truck pulls away from the corner.  The shopping cart
     rolls off--the bums nowhere to be seen.

     The Truck turns the corner, revealing the derelicts
     climbing up the back of it, with Glad bags around their
     necks.  The Truck moves toward an enclosed Walkway Bridge
     that connects the Auction House with another Building.

     Launching low-tech grapples, the Vagrants latch them-
     selves onto the Walkway window as the Truck passes
     beneath.

     AT THE WINDOW

     The viewer's viewpoint moves into a tighter view of the
     dangling derelicts, revealing them to, of course, be Hawk
     and Alex.  Getting a footing, on the small window ledge,
     each man cuts a hole in the window while holding onto a
     plunger.

                             HAWK
               Whoa, you better cut a bigger hole
               than that.

                             ALEX
               Hey, you promised......Don't worry,
               I'm wearing my girdle.

     INT. INSIDE THE WALKWAY WINDOW--NIGHT

     Hawk and Alex come through their window holes.  Hawk
     immediately flattens himself against a wall, whisper-
     ing...

                             HAWK
               Cameras?

                             ALEX
               No need.  Guards' station's right
               there.

     Alex points to an open doorway just down the hall where
     laughter and shadows emerge.  Hawk tries to flee, but a
     grinning Alex pulls him toward it.