THURSDAY MORNING EXORCISM BLUES
                (a non-literal, non-linear translation)

                          by David R. Lister
      

     FADE IN:

1    EXT. - WHITEY'S BLOOZE BAR - NIGHT                              1

     COVER SHOT: It’s a seedy little dive wedged between two 
     abandoned storefronts on a dimly-lit street on a seamy side 
     of town. A neon sign proclaims: WHITEY’S BLOOZE BAR. 
     Establish. "WHITEY’S," the letter "L," and "BAR" FLASH off 
     and on while the letters spelling "BOOZE" remain lit. The 
     cycle continues. A couple of REGULARS ENTER the shot and go 
     into the bar.

                                                         CUT TO: 

2    INT. — WHITEY’S BLOOZE BAR — SAME                               2

     COVER SHOT: The couple of Regulars ENTER, taking a table 
     among the small, lethargic group of other REGULARS (mostly 
     five-dollar-women and two-dollar-men) who are already nursing 
     shots and beers in this dirty, smoke-filled room. They sit 
     at small tables, sipping and smoking with little to say.  
     Some couples, some loners. They sit in the dark, backlit by 
     a spotlight that beams on a modest stage (center-screen, 
     BG). WHITEY ENTERS and plops down two beers and a bowl of 
     pretzels in front of the unresponsive couple who just arrived. 
     Then he steps up to the microphone on-stage. Whitey is a 
     cheesy man who talks around a cheap stogie. The Regulars are 
     inattentive.

                           WHITEY
               Before I intr’duce tonight’s act, 
               just a reminder: Them pretzels ain’t 
               t’ leave this bar ‘less ther a’ready 
               in yer gullet. ‘Kay? Yer breakfast 
               ain’t on me, ya know...,
                    (half-beat)
               Wexler.

                           WEXLER
                    (interjecting off-mic)
               Yeah, up yers, Whitey!

                           WHITEY
                    (ignoring catcall)
               ‘Kay, ‘nuff said.

     MS: Whitey continues.

                                            (CONTINUED)