lonerangerstenspotirish
Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.
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1.
The Lone Rangers
by:
Sean Ryan
Copyright
registered with the
Screenwriter's Guild
All Rights Reserved
Contact: seansshack@oceanfree.net
FADE IN:
INT. BETTING OFFICE - DAY
Two figures in front of a safe. One is standing; the other is
kneeling, in front of the number panel on the safe.
TOM POWER is 21, slightly overweight with long black hair. He
punches in numbers, being called out to him by Jim.
JIM RYAN is 20 years of age. He is a skinny-framed man with
black greasy hair.
A large clank as the safe unlocks.
Tom opens the door.
Both smile as the contents become visible. The safe is empty.
TOM
Jumping Jesus bollock almighty
motherfucking cocksucking baby
raping bastard on toast.
JIM
Where the feck is the money? Jasus,
where the feck is the money?
Tom falls to the floor and sits there with his mouth open.
Jim also looks shocked, but runs over to MR. PHILLIPS.
Phillips is a middle age, overweight balding man with bad
acne.
JIM (CONT'D)
Where the feck is the money?
TOM
I would have told you, had you
given me the time. I wasn't working
on Saturday, so the money was
deposited in the night safe across
the street.
JIM
Ah bollock, bollock.
(turns to face Tom)
Bollock. Some fecking plan. Now
what do we do?
Tom sits on the floor.
JIM (CONT'D)
Tom. Tom. Wake the fuck up man.
What the Jesus are we going to do
now man?
TOM
What can we do? That's it. We're
fecked.
JIM
Oh great. We just feck off and
that's it? Without the money?
TOM
What can we do ye gob? There is no
money, unless you plan on hitting
the Bank across the street.
JIM
No that's it. I've had enough. I'm
going home.
TOM
Lets feck off, before the customers
start coming in. Untie that crowd
and lets get the hell out of dodge.
JIM
Untie them! But what if they call
the Gardai?
Tom walks over to Phillips.
TOM
You won't say shit will you? Unless
you want me to visit your wife.
MR. PHILLIPS
You have my word.
JIM
(sarcastically)
Oh I feel much better now.
The two untie Phillips.
INT. FRONT ROOM OF BETTING SHOP - DAY
The room is a small, typical office.
Jim and Tom enter, Phillips follows closely behind.
Two women are tied together and sitting on the floor. They
look relieved that Phillips is OK.
MRS. WHITE, early fifties. Average height and build is tied
to CATHY MORRISSEY, young, small and over weight.
Jim starts to untie the two women.
Tom takes a Coke from the vending machine, opens it and walks
to the window.
TOM
Hurry up will ye.
As he approaches the window, his face drops along with the
can of Coke.
The can hits the floor with a crash and spills.
JIM
What is it?
TOM
Looks like we're truly fucked.
The view is shown for the first time.
The street is full of Garda cars, vans, armed Garda and
soldiers.
Tom ducks out of view.
TOM
Jasus. Jasus. Jasus. Jasus.
Jim rushes over to see what's going on and drops to the
ground as quickly as Tom had done.
JIM
How the feck?
TOM
Someone must have tripped an alarm.
MR. PHILLIPS
No one did.
He walks over to the window. But Tom pushes him back.
GARDA
(on megaphone)
We know you're in there. We know
who you are. Come out with your
arms in the air. You have five
minutes to surrender.
TOM
Bull shit. Move away from the
window. We don't want you signaling
anyone.
JIM
What now?
TOM
Well, I'm not going to prison. I
can tell you that much. We can
make demands and get a bus or
something, just like in Dog Day
afternoon.
JIM
Oh wonderfuckingfull. Great
reference, a movie where it all
goes tits up. Which one am I?
TOM
(laughs)
Pacino's boyfriend. The one getting
the sex change.
JIM
Great, me day just keeps getting
better.
The two share a smile.
Tom looks down at his gun and grips the handle tightly.
JIM
What are you thinking?
TOM
About busting out of here.
Jim laughs.
JIM
Did you see the amount of cops
outside? We wouldn't get five feet.
TOM
Come one man. We'll blast our way
out like Tony fecking Montana.
(really bad Cuban accent)
Say hello to my little friend.
JIM
If by little friend, you mean your
little dick. I'll go with that.
(laughs)
But you are comparing us to a guy
coked up to the eyeballs and armed
up to the tits. When we on the
other hand have toy guns and Coca
fecking Cola.
Jim nodes at the coke machine.
JIM
Oh And by the way Tom.
(Talking louder)
Tony Montana.
(shouting)
Got fecking killed.
Jim's words appear to fall on deaf ears.
Tom tosses the gun from hand to hand and gets to his feet.
He starts to jump up and down, like a boxer preparing for a
fight.
TOM
You with me?
JIM
Feck no. I'm not gonna die today.
TOM
Who said anything about dying? I
said lets get the feck out of here.
JIM
Tom, unless it's escaped your
attention, we're kinda surrounded
by Gardai and we're only armed with
fecking pellet guns. I think we are
kinda fecked.
TOM
Come on Jim. Just like Butch and
Sundance. The Lone Rangers.
JIM
Tom. Will you please stop using
movie references where the heroes
get fecking killed? Things are bad
enough at the minute without you
constantly reminding me.
TOM
What do you mean? Butch and
Sundance didn't die. They escaped.
JIM
Tom, they were surrounded by
hundreds of men, of course they
died. That was the whole point.
They would rather burn out than
fade away. They died together.
Tom looks at Jim for a moment, before swallowing his spit.
TOM
How about it partner? Looks like
we've made it to the end of the
trail. Wanna go out in a blaze of
glory? Give the old feckers in this
town something to talk about, for
years to come. The Lone Rangers.
We'll never be forgotten.
Jim looks at Tom for the longest time.
JIM
Can't leave my mate go it alone,
now can I? Besides imagine what my
Dad will do if he gets his hands on
me.
Jim stands up and grabs Tom's hand. The two hug each other
and each look like they're about to cry.
Tom pushes Jim away at the same time Jim steps back.
TOM
Feck off will ye. Getting all
girlie on me. You ready?
JIM
Just like Butch and Sundance huh?
TOM
Yeah. Just like Butch and Sundance.
MR. PHILLIPS
No wait a second...
The two rush through door and burst out into the street.
Jim runs left, aiming his gun high. Tom runs right, aiming
his gun low.
EXT. OUTSIDE BETTING OFFICE - DAY
Freeze frame image of the two, running from the door of the
betting office.
TOM (V.O.)
I think we may be getting a bit
ahead of ourselves here. We need to
take you back a bit first.
JIM (V.O.)
How far?
TOM (V.O.)
A week should do.
JIM (V.O.)
Sounds good. Hopefully we don't
come off as being total wasters.
TITLE: ONE WEEK EARLIER.
INT. BEDROOM - DAY
Tom Power is lying on a bed. The room is a mess. Clothes are
thrown in piles on the floor.
A collection of empty beer cans are stacked in the corner of
the room.
The walls of the room are covered with various posters,
ranging from rock bands to half naked models.
Tom starts to wake, scratching himself in his privates as he
does.
Looking at his watch he sees the time.
TOM
(talking to himself)
11:30.
(yawns)
Feck it, the middle of the night.
He rubs his face in an attempt to wake himself up.
TOM
(talking to himself)
Time for a little mood music.
He jumps naked from the bed and starts to move some large
items from the far corner of the room.
Sliding them across the floor, they appear to be very large
wooden speakers.
Tom positions one at either corner of the room and sets up a
smaller second set of speakers, and then a third.
When the wiring is complete, he takes a vinyl record from its
sleeve and blows dust from it, before inspecting it with
care.
Tom places the record on the deck and starts to play a
selected track.
His chosen song begins, as Tom starts to conduct an imaginary
orchestra with his hands and the song builds up.
Moments later he picks up a hairbrush and starts to sing the
lyric's into the brush handle, waving to an imaginary crowd,
at the far side of the bedroom.
When the song reaches the chorus, Tom picks up a tennis
racket from the floor and starts to play guitar with it.
The windows in the room vibrate from the loud music playing
within.
INT. KITCHEN - DAY
Tom's mother KATHLEEN POWER is making breakfast at an old
style cooker. A middle aged, slightly overweight woman.
His father SEAMUS POWER sits at the dining table reading the
sports section of a newspaper. Mid forties, balding and
sporting the physical frame of someone who has played a lot
of sport in his day.
The plates on a French dresser shake from the vibrations
caused by the music above.
Kathleen runs over to the dresser just in time to catch a
plate before it hits the ground.
SEAMUS POWER
Jasus and all that is holy. Do you
fecking believe that little prick?
(looking up at ceiling)
He'll come through the fecking
floor one of these days. Go up and
talk to him woman, before I kick
the living shite out of him.
KATHLEEN POWER
He's your son Seamus. You know the
rule. I deal with the girls. You
get the nutcase.
SEAMUS POWER
Ah come on woman. Me arthritis is
killing me.
Seamus rubs his knee.
KATHLEEN POWER
(shouting)
All right then, just this once. But
you owe me.
Louder bangs are heard as Tom bounces around in the room
above.
SEAMUS POWER
That's me girl.
He slaps her on the backside as she passes.
She lets out a whelp and giggles like a little girl.
INT. BEDROOM - DAY
Tom is really getting into the song. Playing his heart out on
his imaginary guitar.
Tom jumps onto the bed and begins to jump up and down while
playing cords on the tennis racket.
TOM
(singing)
When I hear th...
The door opens and Kathleen Power walks in.
She is greeted to a full frontal view of her son, playing
guitar stark naked, bouncing around on his bed.
KATHLEEN POWER
Jesus Mary and Joseph.
She covers her eyes to shield herself and backs out of the
room in a hurry.
Tom continues on oblivious to what has happened.
KATHLEEN POWER
(shouting)
Seamus, Seamus. Get up here and
deal with your son.
INT. KITCHEN - DAY
SEAMUS POWER
Ah for Jasus sake.
Seamus Rolls up the newspaper and starts to run upstairs.
INT. BEDROOM - DAY
Tom jumps into the air and swings his arm wildly to hit a
note on the tennis racket guitar.
FREEZE FRAME FRONTAL OF TOM (ABOVE WAIST).
TITLE: TOM POWER. UNEMPLOYED. 21. MUSIC LOVER. SINGLE.
UNFREEZE.
Seamus comes crashing through the door, paper in hand.
SEAMUS POWER
You feck witted egit. Come here.
Seamus lashes out with the rolled up newspaper and misses
Tom.
TOM
Ah shite.
Tom jumps off the bed and runs from the room.
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Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.