ritual killed her?
- Was it your fault she died?
- No.
All right.
Then Ill let you tell her story.
But only if you agree to let me do
whatever else it takes to win.
Youre not used to
this kind of place.
Im sure our life is very strange
to you.
Not so strange.
I grew up in a little town.
But our house wasnt as nice
or as big as this.
My mother, she raised me alone.
She was a schoolteacher,
so we h
me to go against a priest? Get
excommunicated? You think Im nuts?
CHRISTY
You bastard!
VINCE
(trying to calm her)
We can still see each other. Just like
always. Its a different kind of sin.
Smaller.
CHRISTY
You pig!
Vince backs off, and starts searching for his jacket.
VINCE
Babe, its not me! I love you! Its
God!
CHRISTY
You lying sleazeball! The best years of
my life! What am I, garbage? Am I l
PRIEST, not long out of the seminary, crouches at her side
counting off the beads of a rosary. He looks like he is about to pass out.
SUDDENLY THE WOMAN BITES DOWN HARD ON HER LIP. A THIN LINE OF BLOOD COURSES
DOWN HER CHIN. THE BREATH EXPLODES FROM HER LUNGS AS SHE PUSHES REALLY HARD
-
DOCTOR
Arriva!
He lifts the child from her loins, but it makes no sound. We dont see the
baby - just the shock
ritual: each thing
being done just so, in time-honored fashion.
He slices the potatoes and drops the thin slices into the mason jar.
He adds water and makes a paste of the starch.
Behind Shorty is a spirited barbershop conversation. ONE MAN is
getting a haircut; TWO OTHERS are watching (TOOMER, JASON)
one of them from behind a newspaper. A middle-aged barber,
CHOLLY, is doing most of the talkin
ritual... dominated by a gleaming, golden
cross. A priest kneels before it -- deep in prayer. The
glimmering cross comes INTO FOCUS... but its just a
light-reflection... off the casing of a large bomb. This
is no chapel... but an atrium. Somewhere.
And as the "priest" rubs out his cigarette we see its
Castor Troy -- carefully installing this complex device.
ANOTHER CAROUSEL HORSE
sweeps by...
ARC