chicken, pat dalouettes,
salade de langoustine,
gteau de carottes et Gruyre...
You. You put them electrics right, Mitchel.
Put them electrics right or...
(Richard) You dont eat.
You dont eat.
I told you not to smoke.
I should stand still, Mr Spica. Or who knows?
You might spoil something,
put your foot in something.
So, a hot meal for tonight.
Something special, please. How about some...
some, er
feather, a silk shawl, a picture of Isadora
Duncan. Clearly, the arrangement is--
A SHRINE -- And it glows with the candles like some religious
altar.
We hear a womans voice in a North Carolina accent.
ANNIE (V.O.)
I believe in the Church of
Baseball.
(beat)
Ive tried all the major religions
and most of the minor ones--Ive
worshipped Buddha, Allah, Brahma,
Vishnu, Siva, trees, mushrooms,
and Isad
chicken feed.
A big target. Why should anything be different?
Because five million dollars buys me!
Im breaking out of here.
If you fail this time, Mr Dillon, my people wont be so forgiving.
Fail? Show me one man who can stop me.
y:i Attention shoppers, be sure to check y:i out our special on paper towels.
y:i Thats aisle seven.
Hey!
- Give it to me! - My purse! Somebody help me!
- Let go of the
feathers and parts of animals. Some of them have long savage-looking hair; other crew-cut or completely shaved; they wear bandoliers, flak jackets, shorts and little else. They wear Montagnard sandals or no shoes at all, and their bodies and faces are painted in bizarre camouflage patterns. They appear one with the jungle and mist, FIRING INTO US as they move.
The soldier we saw earlier emerges f
feather for a memory.
For a long time now,
the woman had wanted...
to give her daughter
the single swan feather...
and tell her, "This feather
may look worthless...
but it comes from afar
and carries with it...
all my good intentions."
- Hi!
- Oh, Jennifer! Oh, hi!
- Hi, June.
- Hi.
Yeah, I want-- Thats it.
How are you, June?
...the official line
of scrimmage. No gain.
- Come on, do or die.
Right
feather stuck in the band. Behind him come two Spanish Peruvians, SATIPO and BARRANCA. Bringing up the rear are five Yagua INDIANS. They act as porters and are wrangling the two heavily-packed llamas. The Indians become increasingly nervous. They speak to each other in bursts of Quechua. The American, who is known to his friends as Indy, glances back at them.
BARRANCA
(irritated)
Theyre talking a
ya tike me for, a fool?
"No one taught him take instead of tike
"Hear a Yorkshireman, or worse
Hear a Cornishman converse
"ld rather hear a choir singing flat
"Chickens cackling in a barn
Just like this one
"Garn!
"Garn!
"l ask you, sir, what sort of word is that?
"lts aoow and garn
that keep her in her place
"Not her wretched clothes and dirty face
"Why cant the English
teach their children ho
feathered variety... pigeons and that.
What? Oh, frig me, no!
I cant be doin with that.
All that cooin and flappin and shittin all over shop. They want shootin, them.
The only good pigeons are in pies.
Im gonna love you
Im gonna love you
Right. If you could just sign this, Mrs., er...
Hoff. Mari Hoff. Crappaty name, isnt it?
Me late husband Frank left it me.
You can imagine me feelins on signin
feather-light.
The Mans overhead slams onto concrete, ripping up hunks of
stone. MacLeod fans his blade.
MACLEOD AND THE MAN"S SWORDS
clang in the tunnel, pulverizing cars, gouging columns in
showers of brilliant sparks.
Running Feet, Shouting VOICES, distant SIRENS.
His opponent is outmatched. Surging forward:
MACLEOD
cuts off the Mans head. A shimmering energy surges between
the corpse and MacL
feathers and parts of animals. Some of them have long savage-looking hair; other crew-cut or completely shaved; they wear bandoliers, flak jackets, shorts and little else. They wear Montagnard sandals or no shoes at all, and their bodies and faces are painted in bizarre camouflage patterns. They appear one with the jungle and mist, FIRING INTO US as they move.
The soldier we saw earlier emerges f