Very Bad Things

113  WEDDING RECEPTION – TENT NEXT TO CHURCH       113

Liz drinks champagne and talks with her guests.

114  EXT. CHURCH – REAR         114

Fisher and Moore load Boyd’s body in the trunk of Fisher’s car.

MOORE: He cam to me early today, was talking about money, insurance money. Said he was gonna get what was his.

FISHER: My God...

MOORE: he said he was the Brain Trust. Said he was smarter than all of us. He started reading “Atlas Shrugged,” staring at himself in the mirror. 

FISHER: Did he try to kiss you?

MOORE: All week long.

Fisher slams the trunk closed.

115  WEDDING RECEPTION – MUCH LATER         115

Only a few guests remain. Fisher’s parents watch the boys. The caterers are cleaning up. Fisher and Liz sit alone.

FISHER: He kept saying he was protected.

LIZ: What does that mean?

FISHER: Like if something happened to him, he could still get us.

LIZ: Like how?

FISHER: I don’t know. He could have told someone. He could have, like in the event of his death, somehow let someone know where those bodies are buried.

LIZ: The only proof is those bodies.

FISHER: So what do we do?

LIZ: Move the bodies.

FISHER: Move the bodies?

OLD MAN (O.C.): Excuse us?

Fisher and Liz look up at a sweet OLD COUPLE, who talk at the same time, oblivious to each other.

OLD MAN:                      OLD WOMAN:

We just wanted to say         We’re your Uncle Henry’s

Congratulations and wish      parents. Opal and Earl.

You great happiness.          Tell them from both of us.

Mazeltov. I just did.         Malzeltov. Wish them luck.

I said Malzeltov. You         The secret to a good

Never listen to me.           Marriage is to listen.

LIZ: (cheerleader smile) Thank you. Thank you. We will. Bye bye.

The Old Couple shuffles away. Fisher watches them go, he suddenly breaks down, crying...

FISHER: I...Liz...all I ever wanted, was for you to be happy. I just wanted to give you the wedding, the life you always dreamed of...(sobs) ...I just love you so much...So much...

LIZ: (beat; unmoved) You and Moore move the bodies and bury Boyd with them. In fact, put Moore in the ground too.

FISHER: What?

LIZ: If you don’t tie up all the lose ends it’ll never be over.

FISHER: (horrified) No...

LIZ: You put him down or don’t bother coming back.

FISHER: But...

LIZ: Do you love me? DO YOU LOVE ME?!

OFF Fisher...

116  EXT. HIGHWAY – NIGHT        116

Fisher’s car blasts past a road sign reading, “Las Vegas, 358 miles.”

117  INT. FISHER’S CAR     117

Fisher drives, Moore’s in the passenger seat. They’re still in their tuxedos. Extreme silence. Fisher, almost in a trance.

MOORE: You alright?

FISHER: Yeah. I’m thinking about Micheal’s Franco Harris fixation. You know how Micheal was always harping “Immaculate Reception?” I’ve seen that play. A lot of times...and I have to say this...Franco was lucky. Flat out, right place, right time. That’s it. He was where the ball bounced. You get me?

MOORE: I guess.

FISHER: I’m saying it’s luck. All luck. You work your entire life, all the training, focus, all the dedication, all irrelevant. Where does the ball bounce? My father spent his whole life trying to start a company, practiced every day, worked like a dog, finally got enough money. He’s paid the dues, he’s ready, does all the market research, picks his shot – “Pup Corn.”

MOORE: Pup corn?

FISHER: That’s right, “Pup Corn.” Doggie treats. Little snacks for dogs. He’s figured it out. There is a hole in the market and he’s going to fill it. Spends all out money, works himself into not two but three heart attacks getting this shit up. After fifteen months, the big day arrives, the first box of “Pup Corn” pops off the belt. He comes running home with that box, pulls us out of school. We all pile into the living room, must be fifty of us, and in comes “Shelmer,” our 8 year old mutt. “Here Shelmer,” my dad cries. He’s got that little fucking pup corn in his hand, “Here girl.” This dog will eat anything, she eats rocks, anything. She walk’s up to my dad’s hand, looks down at the little pellet, licks it once, turns around, walks out of the room. Shelmer rejected the “Pup Corn.” Fifteen months of my dad’s life, right there. Not one dog ate Pup Corn. Not one. Three months later, “Pup Corn” shuts down. Chapter Eleven. My father never got over it. Never.

SILENCE hangs again.

118         EXT. DESERT – LATER    118

Fisher and Moore search for the graves of Tina and Ralph with flashlights and shovels.

FISHER: I think it was over here.

They move into a new area and start poking around. Nothing.

MOORE: It was over by those rocks.

Again they search, prodding into earth with their shovels. Nothing.

Fisher stops digging, tired, he pauses, shines his light around until...

FISHER: There.

MOORE: Where?

Fisher moves to a new spot.

FISHER: There. This rock is where I stood when I said the prayer.

He starts digging in front of the rock. The earth is soft.

FISHER: Bingo.

Moore and Fisher quickly start to dig, until, finally, Moore’s shovel makes contact.

MOORE: Got it.

And they dig some more.

DISSOLVE: