We are floating up a steep scrubby slope. We hear male voices gently singing "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" and a deep, affable, Western-accented voice--Sam Elliot's, perhaps: VOICE-OVER A way out west there was a fella, fella I want to tell you about, fella by the name of Jeff Lebowski. At least, that was the handle his lovin' parents gave him, but he never had much use for it himself. This Lebowski, he called himself the Dude. Now, Dude, that's a name no one would self-apply where I come from. But then, there was a lot about the Dude that didn't make a whole lot of sense to me. And a lot about where he lived, like- wise. But then again, maybe that's why I found the place s'durned innarestin'. We top the rise and the smoggy vastness of Los Angeles at twilight stretches out before us. VOICE-OVER They call Los Angeles the City of Angels. I didn't find it to be that exactly, but I'll allow as there are some nice folks there. 'Course, I can't say I seen London, and I never been to France, and I ain't never seen no queen in her damn undies as the fella says. But I'll tell you what, after seeing Los Angeles and thisahere story I'm about to unfold-- wal, I guess I seen somethin' ever' bit as stupefyin' as ya'd see in any a those other places, and in English too, so I can die with a smile on my face without feelin' like the good Lord gypped me. INTERIOR RALPH'S It is late, the supermarket all but deserted. We are tracking in on a fortyish man in Bermuda shorts and sunglasses at the dairy case. He is the Dude. His rumpled look and relaxed manner suggest a man in whom casualness runs deep. He is feeling quarts of milk for coldness and examining their expiration dates. VOICE-OVER Now this story I'm about to unfold took place back in the early nineties-- just about the time of our conflict with Sad'm and the Eye-rackies. I only mention it 'cause some- times there's a man--I won't say a hee-ro, 'cause what's a hee-ro?--but sometimes there's a man. The Dude glances furtively about and then opens a quart of milk. He sticks his nose in the spout and sniffs. VOICE-OVER And I'm talkin' about the Dude here-- sometimes there's a man who, wal, he's the man for his time'n place, he fits right in there--and that's the Dude, in Los Angeles. CHECKOUT GIRL She waits, arms folded. A small black-and white TV next to her register shows George Bush on the White House lawn with helicopter rotors spinning behind him. GEORGE BUSH This aggression will not stand. . . This will not stand! The Dude, peeking over his shades, scribbles something at the little customer's lectern. Milk beads his mustache. VOICE-OVER ...and even if he's a lazy man, and the Dude was certainly that--quite possibly the laziest in Los Angeles County. The Dude has his Ralph's Shopper's Club card to one side and is making out a check to Ralph's for sixty-nine cents. VOICE-OVER ...which would place him high in the runnin' for laziest worldwide--but sometimes there's a man. . . sometimes there's a man. EXTERIOR RALPH'S Long shot of the glowing Ralph's. There are only two or three cars parked in the huge lot. VOICE-OVER Wal, I lost m'train of thought here. But--aw hell, I done innerduced him enough. The Dude is a small figure walking across the vast lot. Next to him walks a Mexican carry-out boy in a red apron and cap carrying a small brown bag holding the quart of milk. The two men's footsteps echo in the still of the night. After a beat of walking the Dude offhandedly points. DUDE It's the LeBaron. DUDE'S HOUSE The Dude is going up the walkway of a small Venice bungalow court. He holds the paper sack in one hand and a small leatherette satchel in the other. He awkwardly hugs the grocery bag against his chest as he turns a key in his door. INSIDE The Dude enters and flicks on a light. His head is grabbed from behind and tucked into an armpit. We track with him as he is rushed through the living room, his arm holding the satchel flailing away from his body. Going into the bedroom the outflung satchel catches a piece of doorframe and wallboard and rips through it, leaving a hole. The Dude is propelled across the bedroom and on into a small bathroom, the satchel once again taking away a piece of doorframe. His head is plunged into the toilet. The paper bag hugged to his chest explodes milk as it hits the toilet rim and the satchel pulverizes tile as it crashes to the floor. The Dude blows bubbles. VOICE We want that money, Lebowski. Bunny said you were good for it. Hands haul the Dude out of the toilet. The Dude blubbers and gasps for air. VOICE Where's the money, Lebowski! His head is plunged back into the toilet. VOICE Where's the money, Lebowski! The hands haul him out again, dripping and gasping. VOICE WHERE'S THE FUCKING MONEY, SHITHEAD! DUDE It's uh, it's down there somewhere. Lemme take another look. His head is plunged back in. VOICE Don't fuck with us. If your wife owes money to Jackie Treehorn, that means you owe money to Jackie Treehorn. The inquisitor hauls the Dude's head out one last time and flops him over so that he sits on the floor, back against the toilet. The Dude gropes back in the toilet with one hand. Looming over him is a strapping blond man. Beyond in the living room a young Chinese man unzips his fly and walks over to a rug. CHINESE MAN Ever thus to deadbeats, Lebowski. He starts peeing on the rug. The Dude's hand comes out of the toilet bowl with his sunglasses. DUDE Oh, man. Don't do-- BLOND MAN You see what happens? You see what happens, Lebowski? The Dude puts on his dripping sunglasses. DUDE Look, nobody calls me Lebowski. You got the wrong guy. I'm the Dude, man. BLOND MAN Your name is Lebowski. Your wife is Bunny. DUDE Bunny? Look, moron. He holds up his hands. DUDE You see a wedding ring? Does this place look like I'm fucking married? All my plants are dead! The blond man stoops to unzip the satchel. He pulls out a bowling ball and examines it in the manner of a superstitious native. BLOND MAN The fuck is this? The Dude pats at his pockets, takes out a joint and lights it. DUDE Obviously you're not a golfer. The blond man drops the ball which pulverizes more tile. BLOND MAN Woo? The Chinese man is zipping his fly. WOO Yeah? BLOND MAN Wasn't this guy supposed to be a millionaire? WOO Uh? They both look around. WOO Fuck. BLOND MAN What do you think? WOO He looks like a fuckin' loser. The Dude pulls his sunglasses down his nose with one finger and peeks over them. DUDE Hey. At least I'm housebroken. The two men look at each other. They turn to leave. WOO Fuckin' waste of time. The blond man turns testily at the door. BLOND MAN Thanks a lot, asshole. ON THE DOOR SLAM WE CUT TO: BOWLING PINS Scattered by a strike. Music and head credits play over various bowling shots--pins flying, bowlers hoisting balls, balls gliding down lanes, sliding feet, graceful releases, ball return spinning up a ball, fingers sliding into fingerholes, etc. The music turns into boomy source music, coming from a distant jukebox, as the credits end over a clattering strike. A lanky blonde man with stringy hair tied back in a ponytail turns from the strike to walk back to the bench. MAN Hot damn, I'm throwin' rocks tonight. Mark it, Dude. We are tracking in on the circular bench towards a big man nursing a large plastic cup of Bud. He has dark worried eyes and a goatee. Hairy legs emerge from his khaki shorts. He also wears a khaki army surplus shirt with the sleeves cut off over an old bowling shirt. This is Walter. He squints through the smoke from his own cigarette as he addresses the Dude at the scoring table. The Dude, also holding a large plastic cup of Bud, wears some of its foam on his mustache. WALTER This was a valued rug. He elaborately clears his throat. WALTER This was, uh-- DUDE Yeah man, it really tied the room together-- WALTER This was a valued, uh. Donny, the strike-scoring bowler, enters and sits next Walter. DONNY What tied the room together, Dude? WALTER Were you listening to the story, Donny? DONNY What-- WALTER Were you listening to the Dude's story? DONNY I was bowling-- WALTER So you have no frame of reference, Donny. You're like a child who wanders in in the middle of a movie and wants to know-- DUDE What's your point, Walter? WALTER There's no fucking reason--here's my point, Dude--there's no fucking reason-- DONNY Yeah Walter, what's your point? WALTER Huh? DUDE What's the point of--we all know who was at fault, so what the fuck are you talking about? WALTER Huh? No! What the fuck are you talking--I'm not--we're talking about unchecked aggression here-- DONNY What the fuck is he talking about? DUDE My rug. WALTER Forget it, Donny. You're out of your element. DUDE This Chinaman who peed on my rug, I can't go give him a bill so what the fuck are you talking about? WALTER What the fuck are you talking about?! This Chinaman is not the issue! I'm talking about drawing a line in the sand, Dude. Across this line you do not, uh--and also, Dude, Chinaman is not the preferred, uh. . . Asian- American. Please. DUDE Walter, this is not a guy who built the rail- roads, here, this is a guy who peed on my-- WALTER What the fuck are you-- DUDE Walter, he peed on my rug-- DONNY He peed on the Dude's rug-- WALTER YOU'RE OUT OF YOUR ELEMENT! This Chinaman is not the issue, Dude. DUDE So who-- WALTER Jeff Lebowski. Come on. This other Jeffrey Lebowski. The millionaire. He's gonna be easier to find anyway than these two, uh. these two . . . And he has the wealth, uh, the resources obviously, and there is no reason, no FUCKING reason, why his wife should go out and owe money and they pee on your rug. Am I wrong? DUDE No, but-- WALTER Am I wrong! DUDE Yeah, but-- WALTER Okay. That, uh. He elaborately clears his throat. That rap really tied the room together, did it not? DUDE Fuckin' A. DONNY And this guy peed on it. WALTER Donny! Please! DUDE Yeah, I could find this Lebowski guy-- DONNY His name is Lebowski? That's your name, Dude! DUDE Yeah, this is the guy, this guy should compensate me for the fucking rug. I mean his wife goes out and owes money and they pee on my rug. WALTER Thaaat's right Dude; they pee on your fucking Rug. CLOSE ON A PLAQUE We pull back from the name JEFFREY LEBOWSKI engraved in silver to reveal that the plaque, from Variety Clubs International, honors Lebowski as ACHIEVER OF THE YEAR. Reflected in the plaque we see the Dude entering the room with a YOUNG MAN. We hear the two men talk: YOUNG MAN And this is the study. You can see the various commendations, honorary degrees, et cetera. DUDE Yes, uh, very impressive. YOUNG MAN Please, feel free to inspect them. DUDE I'm not really, uh. YOUNG MAN Please! Please! DUDE Uh-huh. We are panning the walls, looking at various citations and certificates unrelated to the ones being discussed offscreen: YOUNG MAN That's the key to the city of Pasadena, which Mr. Lebowski was given two years ago in recognition of his various civic, uh. DUDE Uh-huh. YOUNG MAN That's a Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce Business Achiever award, which is given--not necessarily given every year! Given only when there's a worthy, somebody especially-- DUDE Hey, is this him with Nancy? YOUNG MAN That is indeed Mr. Lebowski with the first lady, yes, taken when-- DUDE Lebowski on the right? YOUNG MAN Of course, Mr. Lebowski on the right, Mrs. Reagan on the left, taken when-- DUDE He's handicapped, huh? YOUNG MAN Mr. Lebowski is disabled, yes. And this picture was taken when Mrs. Reagan was first lady of the nation, yes, yes? Not of California. DUDE Far out. YOUNG MAN And in fact he met privately with the President, though unfortunately there wasn't time for a photo opportunity. DUDE Nancy's pretty good. YOUNG MAN Wonderful woman. We were very-- DUDE Are these. YOUNG MAN These are Mr. Lebowski's children, so to speak-- DUDE Different mothers, huh? YOUNG MAN No, they-- DUDE I guess he's pretty, uh, racially pretty cool-- YOUNG MAN They're not his, heh-heh, they're not literally his children; they're the Little Lebowski Urban Achievers, inner-city children of promise but without the-- DUDE I see. YOUNG MAN --without the means for higher education, so Mr. Lebowski has committed to sending all of them to college. DUDE Jeez. Think he's got room for one more? YOUNG MAN One--oh! Heh-heh. You never went to college? DUDE Well, yeah I did, but I spent most of my time occupying various, um, administration buildings-- YOUNG MAN Heh-heh-- DUDE --smoking thai-stick, breaking into the ROTC-- YOUNG MAN Yes, heh-- DUDE --and bowling. I'll tell you the truth, Brandt, I don't remember most of it.--Jeez! Fuck me! Our continuing track and pan have brought us onto a framed Life Magazine cover which is headlined ARE YOU A LEBOWSKI ACHIEVER? Oddly, the Dude's sunglassed face is on it; we realize that, under the magazine's logo and headline, the display is mirrored. We hear the door open and the whine of a motor. The Dude, wearing shorts and a bowling shirt, turns to look. So does Brandt, the young man we've been listening to. He wears a suit and has his hands clasped in front of his groin. Entering the room is a fat sixtyish man in a motorized wheelchair--Jeff Lebowski. LEBOWSKI Okay sir, you're a Lebowski, I'm a Lebowski, that's terrific, I'm very busy so what can I do for you? He wheels himself behind a desk. The Dude sits facing him as Brandt withdraws. DUDE Well sir, it's this rug I have, really tied the room together- LEBOWSKI You told Brandt on the phone, he told me. So where do I fit in? DUDE Well they were looking for you, these two guys, they were trying to-- LEBOWSKI I'll say it again, all right? You told Brandt. He told me. I know what happened. Yes? Yes? DUDE So you know they were trying to piss on your rug-- LEBOWSKI Did I urinate on your rug? DUDE You mean, did you personally come and pee on my-- LEBOWSKI Hello! Do you speak English? Parla usted Inglese? I'll say it again. Did I urinate on your rug? DUDE Well no, like I said, Woo peed on the rug-- LEBOWSKI Hello! Hello! So every time--I just want to understand this, sir-- every time a rug is micturated upon in this fair city, I have to compensate the-- DUDE Come on, man, I'm not trying to scam anybody here, I'm just-- LEBOWSKI You're just looking for a handout like every other--are you employed, Mr. Lebowski? DUDE Look, let me explain something. I'm not Mr. Lebowski; you're Mr. Lebowski. I'm the Dude. So that's what you call me. That, or Duder. His Dudeness. Or El Duderino, if, you know, you're not into the whole brevity thing-- LEBOWSKI Are you employed, sir? DUDE Employed? LEBOWSKI You don't go out and make a living dressed like that in the middle of a weekday. DUDE Is this a--what day is this? LEBOWSKI But I do work, so if you don't mind-- DUDE No, look. I do mind. The Dude minds. This will not stand, ya know, this will not stand, man. I mean, if your wife owes-- LEBOWSKI My wife is not the issue here. I hope that my wife will someday learn to live on her allowance, which is ample, but if she doesn't, sir, that will be her problem, not mine, just as your rug is your problem, just as every bum's lot in life is his own responsibility regardless of whom he chooses to blame. I didn't blame anyone for the loss of my legs, some chinaman in Korea took them from me but I went out and achieved anyway. I can't solve your problems, sir, only you can. The Dude rises. DUDE Ah fuck it. LEBOWSKI Sure! Fuck it! That's your answer! Tattoo it on your forehead! Your answer to everything! The Dude is heading for the door. LEBOWSKI Your "revolution" is over, Mr. Lebowski! Condolences! The bums lost! As the Dude opens the door. LEBOWSKI ...My advice is, do what your parents did! Get a job, sir! The bums will always lose-- do you hear me, Lebowski? THE BUMS WILL ALWAYS-- The Dude shuts the door on the old man's bellowing to find himself-- HALLWAY --in a high coffered hallway. Brandt is approaching. BRANDT How was your meeting, Mr. Lebowski? DUDE Okay. The old man told me to take any rug in the house. WALKWAY A houseman with a rolled-up carpet on one shoulder goes down a stone walk that winds through the back lawn, past a swimming pool to a garage. Brandt and the Dude follow. BRANDT Manolo will load it into your car for you, uh, Dude. DUDE It's the LeBaron. DUDE'S POINT OF VIEW Tracking toward the pool. A young woman sits facing it, her back to us, leaning forward to paint her toenails. Beyond her a black form floats in an inflatable chair in the pool. BRANDT Well, enjoy, and perhaps we'll see you again some time, Dude. DUDE Yeah sure, if I'm ever in the neighborhood, need to use the john. CLOSER TRACK Arcing around the woman's foot as she finishes painting the nails emerald green. THE DUDE Looking. WIDER The young woman looks up at him. She is in her early twenties. She leans back and extends her leg toward the Dude. YOUNG WOMAN Blow on them. The Dude pulls his sunglasses down his nose and peeks over them. DUDE Huh? She waggles her foot and giggles. YOUNG WOMAN G'ahead. Blow. The Dude tentatively grabs hold of her extended foot. DUDE You want me to blow on your toes? YOUNG WOMAN Uh-huh. . . I can't blow that far. The Dude looks over at the pool. DUDE You sure he won't mind? The man bobbing in the inflatable chair is passed out. He is thin, in his thirties, with long stringy blond hair. He wears black leather pants and a black leather jacket, open, shirtless, exposing fine blond chest hair and pale skin. One arm trails off into the water; next to it, an empty whiskey bottle bobs. YOUNG WOMAN Dieter doesn't care about anything. He's a nihilist. DUDE Practicing? The young woman smiles. YOUNG WOMAN You're not blowing. Brandt nervously takes the Dude by the elbow. BRANDT Our guest has to be getting along, Mrs. Lebowski. The Dude grudgingly allows himself to be led away, still looking at the young woman. DUDE You're Bunny? BUNNY I'll suck your cock for a thousand dollars. Brandt releases a gale of forced laughter: BRANDT Ha-ha-ha-ha! Wonderful woman. Very free-spirited. We're all very fond of her. BUNNY Brandt can't watch though. Or he has to pay a hundred. BRANDT Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! That's marvelous. He continues to lead away the Dude, who looks back over his SHOULDER: DUDE I'm just gonna find a cash machine. BOWLING PINS Scattered by a strike. THE BOWLERS Donny calls out from the bench: DONNY Grasshopper Dude--They're dead in the water!! As the Dude walks back to the scoring table he turns to another team in black bowling shirts--the Cavaliers--that shares the lane. DUDE Your maples, Carl. Walter, just arriving, is carrying a leatherette satchel in one hand and a large plastic carrier in the other. WALTER Way to go, Dude. If you will it, it is no dream. DUDE You're fucking twenty minutes late. What the fuck is that? WALTER Theodore Herzel. DUDE Huh? WALTER State of Israel. If you will it, Dude, it is no-- DUDE What the fuck're you talking about? The carrier. What's in the fucking carrier? WALTER Huh? Oh--Cynthia's Pomeranian. Can't leave him home alone or he eats the furniture. DUDE What the fuck are you-- WALTER I'm saying, Cynthia's Pomeranian. I'm looking after it while Cynthia and Marty Ackerman are in Hawaii. DUDE You brought a fucking Pomeranian bowling? WALTER What do you mean "brought it bowling"? I didn't rent it shoes. I'm not buying it a fucking beer. He's not gonna take your fucking turn, Dude. He lets the small yapping dog out of the carrier. It scoots around the bowling table, sniffing at bowlers and wagging its tail. DUDE Hey, man, if my fucking ex-wife asked me to take care of her fucking dog while she and her boyfriend went to Honolulu, I'd tell her to go fuck herself. Why can't she board it? WALTER First of all, Dude, you don't have an ex, secondly, it's a fucking show dog with fucking papers. You can't board it. It gets upset, its hair falls out. DUDE Hey man-- WALTER Fucking dog has papers, Dude.--Over the line! Smokey turns from his last roll to look at Walter. WALTER Smokey Huh? WALTER Over the line, Smokey! I'm sorry. That's a foul. SMOKEY Bullshit. Eight, Dude. WALTER Excuse me! Mark it zero. Next frame. SMOKEY Bullshit. Walter! WALTER This is not Nam. This is bowling. There are rules. DUDE Come on Walter, it's just--it's Smokey. So his toe slipped over a little, it's just a game. WALTER This is a league game. This determines who enters the next round- robin, am I wrong? SMOKEY Yeah, but-- WALTER Am I wrong!? SMOKEY Yeah, but I wasn't over. Gimme the marker, Dude, I'm marking it an eight. Walter takes out a gun. WALTER Smokey my friend, you're entering a world of pain. DUDE Hey Walter-- WALTER Mark that frame an eight, you're entering a world of pain. SMOKEY I'm not-- WALTER A world of pain. A manager in a bowling-shirt style uniform is running for a phone. SMOKEY Look Dude, I don't hold with this. This guy is your partner, you should-- Walter primes the gun and points it at his head. WALTER HAS THE WHOLE WORLD GONE CRAZY? AM I THE ONLY ONE HERE WHO GIVES A SHIT ABOUT THE RULES? MARK IT ZERO! The Pomeranian is excitedly yapping at Walter's elbow, making high body-twisting tail-wagging leaps. DUDE Walter, they're calling the cops, put the piece away. WALTER MARK IT ZERO! SMOKEY Walter-- WALTER YOU THINK I'M FUCKING AROUND HERE? MARK IT ZERO!! SMOKEY All right! There it is! It's fucking zero! He points frantically at the score projected above the lane. SMOKEY You happy, you crazy fuck? WALTER This is a league game, Smokey! PARKING LOT Walter and the Dude walk to the Dude's car. The Pomeranian trots happily behind Walter who totes the empty carrier. DUDE Walter, you can't do that. These guys're like me, they're pacificists. Smokey was a conscientious objector. WALTER You know Dude, I myself dabbled with pacifism at one point. Not in Nam, of course-- DUDE And you know Smokey has emotional problems! WALTER You mean--beyond pacifism? DUDE He's fragile, man! He's very fragile! As the two men get into the car: WALTER Huh. I did not know that. Well, it's water under the bridge. And we do enter the next round-robin, am I wrong? DUDE No, you're not wrong-- WALTER Am I wrong! DUDE You're not wrong, Walter, you're just an asshole. They watch a squad car take a squealing turn into the lot. WALTER Okay then. We play Quintana and O'Brien next week. They'll be pushovers. DUDE Just, just take it easy, Walter. WALTER That's your answer to everything, Dude. And let me point out--pacifism is not--look at our current situation with that camelfucker in Iraq-- pacifism is not something to hide behind. DUDE Well, just take 't easy, man. WALTER I'm perfectly calm, Dude. DUDE Yeah? Wavin' a gun around?! WALTER (smugly) Calmer than you are. -his irritates the Dude further. DUDE Just take it easy, man! Walter is still smug. WALTER Calmer than you are. DUDE'S HOUSE A large, brilliant Persian rug lies beneath the Dude's beat- up old furniture. At the table next to the answering machine the Dude is mixing kalhua, rum and milk. VOICE Dude, this is Smokey. Look, I don't wanna be a hard-on about this, and I know it wasn't your fault, but I just thought it was fair to tell you that Gene and I will be submitting this to the League and asking them to set aside the round. Or maybe forfeit it to us-- DUDE Shit! VOICE --so, like I say, just thought, you know, fair warning. Tell Walter. A beep. ANOTHER VOICE Mr. Lebowski, this is Brandt at, uh, well--at Mr. Lebowski's office. Please call us as soon as is convenient. Beep. ANOTHER VOICE Mr. Lebowski, this is Fred Dynarski with the Southern Cal Bowling League. I just got a, an informal report, uh, that a uh, a member of your team, uh, Walter Sobchak, drew a loaded weapon during league play-- We hear the doorbell. THE DOOR It swings open to reveal a short, hairy, muscular but balding middle-aged man in a black T-shirt and black cut-off jeans. DUDE Hiya Allan. ALLAN Dude, I finally got the venue I wanted. I'm Performing my dance quintet--you know, my cycle--at Crane Jackson's Fountain Street Theatre on Tuesday night, and I'd love it if you came and gave me notes. The Dude takes a swig of his kalhua. DUDE Sure Allan, I'll be there. ALLAN Dude, uh, tomorrow is already the tenth. DUDE Yeah, yeah I know. Okay. ALLAN Just, uh, just slip the rent under my door. DUDE Yeah, okay. BACK IN THE LIVING ROOM The voice continues on the machine. VOICE --serious infraction, and examine your standing. Thank you. Beep. VOICE Mr. Lebowski, Brandt again. Please do call us when you get in and I'll send the limo. Let me assure you--I hope you're not avoiding this call because of the rug, which, I assure you, is not a problem. We need your help and, uh--well we would very much like to see you. Thank you. It's Brandt. TRACKING We are pushing Brandt down the high-ceilinged hallway. Distantly, we hear a dolorous soprano. Brandt talks back over HIS SHOULDER: BRANDT We've had some terrible news. Mr. Lebowski is in seclusion in the West Wing. DUDE Huh. Brandt throws open a pair of heavy double doors. The music washes over us as we enter a great study where Jeffrey Lebowski, a blanket thrown over his knees, stares hauntedly into a fire, listening to Lohengrin. BRANDT ANNOUNCES, AMBIGUOUSLY: BRANDT Mr. Lebowski. Jeffrey Lebowski waves the Dude in without looking around. LEBOWSKI It's funny. I can look back on a life of achievement, on challenges met, competitors bested, obstacles overcome. I've accomplished more than most men, and without the use of my legs. What. . . What makes a man, Mr. Lebowski? DUDE Dude. LEBOWSKI Huh? DUDE I don't know, sir. LEBOWSKI Is it. . . is it, being prepared to do the right thing? Whatever the price? Isn't that what makes a man? DUDE Sure. That and a pair of testicles. Lebowski turns away from the Dude with a haunted stare, lost in thought. LEBOWSKI You're joking. But perhaps you're right. The Dude thumps at his chest pocket. DUDE Mind if I smoke a jay? LEBOWSKI Bunny. He turns back around and the firelight shows teartracks on his cheeks. DUDE 'Scuse me? LEBOWSKI Bunny Lebowski. . . She is the light of my life. Are you surprised at my tears, sir? DUDE Fuckin' A. LEBOWSKI Strong men also cry. . . Strong men also cry. He clears his throat. LEBOWSKI I received this fax this morning. Brandt hastily pulls a flimsy sheet from his clipboard and hands it to the Dude. LEBOWSKI As you can see, it is a ransom note. Sent by cowards. Men who are unable to achieve on a level field of play. Men who will not sign their names. Weaklings. Bums. THE DUDE EXAMINES THE FAX: WE HAVE BUNNY. GATHER ONE MILLION DOLLARS IN UNMARKED NON- CONSECUTIVE TWENTIES. AWAIT INSTRUCTIONS. NO FUNNY STUFF. DUDE Bummer. Lebowski looks soulfully at the Dude. LEBOWSKI Brandt will fill you in on the details. He wheels his chair around to once again gaze into the fire. Brandt tugs at the Dude's shirt and points him back to the hall. HALLWAY The soprano's singing is once again faint. Brandt's voice is hushed: BRANDT Mr. Lebowski is prepared to make a generous offer to you to act as courier once we get instructions for the money. DUDE Why me, man? BRANDT He suspects that the culprits might be the very people who, uh, soiled your rug, and you're in a unique position to confirm or, uh, disconfirm that suspicion. DUDE So he thinks it's the carpet-pissers, huh? BRANDT Well Dude, we just don't know. BOWLING PINS CRASH--scattered by a strike, in slow motion. WIDER Still in slow motion. We are looking across the length of the bowling alley at a tall, thin, Hispanic bowler displaying perfect form. He wears an all-in-one dacron-polyester stretch bowling outfit with a racing stripe down each side. FAST TRACK IN On the Dude, sitting next to Walter in the molded plastic chairs. The Dude is staring off towards the bowler. DUDE Fucking Quintana--that creep can roll, man-- BACK TO THE BOWLER Displaying great slow-motion form as the Dude and Walter's conversation continues over. WALTER Yeah, but he's a fucking pervert, Dude. DUDE Huh? WALTER The man is a sex offender. With a record. Spent six months in Chino for exposing himself to an eight- year-old. FLASHBACK We see Quintana, in pressed jeans and a stretchy sweater, walking up a stoop in a residential neighborhood and zinging the bell. The VOICE-OVER conversation continues. DUDE Huh. WALTER When he moved down to Venice he had to go door-to-door to tell everyone he's a pederast. The door swings open and a beer-swilling middle-aged man looks dully out at Quintana, who looks hesitantly up. DONNY What's a pederast, Walter? WALTER Shut the fuck up, Donny. PINS scattered by a strike. QUINTANA wheeling and thrusting a black gloved fist into the air. Stitched above the breast pocket of his all-in-one is his first name, "Jesus". BACK TO WALTER AND THE DUDE They have been joined by Donny. WALTER Anyway. How much they offer you? DUDE Twenty grand. And of course I still keep the rug. WALTER Just for making the hand-off? DUDE Yeah. He slips a little black box out of his shirt pocket. DUDE ...They gave Dude a beeper, so whenever these guys call-- WALTER What if it's during a game? DUDE I told him if it was during league play-- Donny has been watching Quintana. DONNY If what's during league play? WALTER Life does not stop and start at your convenience, you miserable piece of shit. DONNY What's wrong with Walter, Dude? DUDE I figure it's easy money, it's all pretty harmless. I mean she probably kidnapped herself. WALTER Huh? DONNY What do you mean, Dude? DUDE Rug-peers did not do this. I mean look at it. Young trophy wife. Marries a guy for money but figures he isn't giving her enough. She owes money all over town-- WALTER That...fucking...bitch! DUDE It's all a goddamn fake. Like Lenin said, look for the person who will benefit. And you will, uh, you know, you'll, uh, you know what I'm trying to say-- DONNY I am the Walrus. WALTER That fucking bitch! DUDE Yeah. DONNY I am the Walrus. WALTER Shut the fuck up, Donny! V.I. Lenin! Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov! DONNY What the fuck is he talking about? WALTER That's fucking exactly what happened, Dude! That makes me fucking SICK! DUDE Yeah, well, what do you care, Walter? DONNY Yeah Dude, why is Walter so pissed off? WALTER Those rich fucks! This whole fucking thing-- I did not watch my buddies die face down in the muck so that this fucking strumpet-- DUDE I don't see any connection to Vietnam, Walter. WALTER Well, there isn't a literal connection, Dude. DUDE Walter, face it, there isn't any connection. It's your roll. WALTER Have it your way. The point is-- DUDE It's your roll-- WALTER The fucking point is-- DUDE It's your roll. VOICE Are you ready to be fucked, man? They both look up. Quintana, on his way out, looks down at them from the lip of the lanes. Over his polyester all-in-one he now wears a windbreaker with a racing stripe and "Jesus" stitched on the breast. He is holding a fancy black-and-red leather ball satchel (perhaps a Sylvia Wein). Behind him stands his partner, O'Brien, a short fat Irishman with tufted red hair. QUINTANA I see you rolled your way into the semis. Deos mio, man. Seamus and me, we're gonna fuck you up. DUDE Yeah well, that's just, ya know, like, your opinion, man. Quintana looks at Walter. QUINTANA Let me tell you something, bendeco. You pull any your crazy shit with us, you flash a piece out on the lanes, I'll take it away from you and stick it up your ass and pull the fucking trigger til it goes "click". DUDE Jesus. QUINTANA You said it, man. Nobody fucks with the Jesus. Jesus walks away. Walter nods sadly. WALTER Eight-year-olds, Dude. DUDE'S BUNGALOW We are looking down at the Dude who is prone on the rug. His eyes are closed. He wears a Walkman headset. Leaking tinnily through the headphones we can just hear an intermittent clatter. In his outflung hand lies a cassette case labeled VENICE BEACH LEAGUE PLAYOFFS 1987. The Dude absently licks his lips as we faintly hear a hall rumbling down the lane. On its impact with the pins, the Dude opens his eyes. He screams. A blonde woman looms over him. Next to her a young man in paint-spattered denims stoops and swings something towards the carrier. The sap catches the Dude on the chin and sends his head thunking back onto the rug. A million stars explode against a field of black. We hear the "La-la-la-la" of The Man in Me. The black field dissolves into the pattern of the rug. The rug rolls away to reveal an aerial view of the city of Los Angeles at twilight,
I always have both on in the grocery store
Wait which one of the women in the starter pack meme do anal?
Uphill both ways?
Blaine Capatch is hilarious.
There are teachers that don’t know? If you tell the Home Depot worker you’re a teacher, they’ll cut it into individual student ones.
#17 it took way less than 30 minutes to come down though.
Tell me more about the dog wanting belly rubs
I saw them open for Psychedelic Furs at the Roxy back in 87
Which was actually a scam - one of the reasons he had to change his name. Source: The Comedians by Kliph Nesterhoff (great book)
Fuckin’ Jody
Due to the population differences, RI is a more potent strain of Floriduh.
How much for the Hasselhoff?
Schindler’s List
Bigfoot shows up again, and gives Luke a hug.
It’s a great museum.
Oooooh, ga- uh, I mean, Max Payne!
Lol I know but the rules is the rules- it’s #10
One up, one down, one to polish.
Nice touch making O’Hara the cop in the Catwoman one.
Um, about that Nick Jonas one...
Paige, no!
If you’re brave enough...
Fucking Jody
If you kill @GavinsFriend he drops a letter that explains some things.
I think your dog has rabies.
I do what I can.