FRANK
That's a good idea. Why don't you go out and get some, sweetheart?
OSCAR
Who made the bomb threat?
FRANK
How would I know that? You think the German shepherd told me?
OSCAR
If he did, he'd be a more reliable source than most of the ones you've used in the past.
FRANK
(He starts running around, mimicking a German shepherd) Arf! Arf! Corruption in the canine corps. A German shepherd, two Dobermans, and a Chihuahua are on the take. Arf! (He runs to KITTY, tries to lift up her dress with his teeth)
KITTY
(Not amused) Cut it out. You're going to tear my dwess. (FRANK starts to bark and sniff at KITTY's behind.) Stop it, I said. (FRANK runs to other side of KITTY, mimes lifting his leg on her skirt)
KITTY
You're wepulsive.
FRANK
(German accent) Was ist das? Was ist das? German shepherd versteht no English.
KITTY
At last I understand why you can't write a decent lead.
FRANK
(straightening up)
Now you listen to me, girlie. I get my leads right more often than anybody here. Yes.
DAN
(walking between FRANK and KITTY) Will you guys cut it out? We've got a broadcast...
KITTY
Ha! You make me laugh. My favorite was the lead you broadcast for that bank robbery. (She mimics Frank's voice.) "The Harlem branch of the Chemical Bank was wobbed today by a group of three armed men."
(KITTY and OSCAR begin laughing together)
All night long, people were phoning, asking for pictures of men with three arms.
FRANK
You want to see a man with three arms? Here, I'll show you. (He starts taking down his pants)
KITTY
Please spare us.
FRANK
(Hesitating) As you wish. (He pulls his pants up) But you're missing something.
OSCAR
You spent too much time with Lyndon Johnson when you were Washington correspondent. I saw him unzip his fly and display his equipment at a meeting of the National Security Council. (Texas drawl) "Yuh think Ho Chi Minh's got anything like this?"
FRANK
The last time I interviewed Lyndon in the White House, he was sitting on the toilet.
KITTY
You missed your golden opportunity to flush him down and end the Vietnam War.
FRANK
Why should I have done that? I was a hawk.
KITTY
You do have a certain odd affection for right wing dictatorships. Why is that?
FRANK
I'm from a military family. I went to the Citadel. Atten-Hut! (He snaps to attention) About face! (He does an about face) About face! (another about face) Present arms! (He rolls up one sleeve, then the other; finally holds his bare arms up in the air)
DAN
What did you learn in military school? I mean, that you think was most important.
FRANK
How to masturbate.
KITTY
God, do I weally have to listen to this?
FRANK
By my senior year, I'd been in more circle jerks than Latin classes.
KITTY
When casual conversation descends to this level, it's time to do some work. I think I'll go down to the floor, see what happened to your bomb thweat.
OSCAR
I'll go with you. Maybe there might be a story there.
(KITTY and OSCAR both exit, OSCAR a little slowly and unsteadily)
FRANK
(calls out when KITTY is out of earshot)
Watch out for that third arm, girlie ...Cunt! (He picks up a glass container with pencils, heaves it angrily at the door through which KITTY and OSCAR have just exited. Container crashes against frame, scattering pencils and other writing paraphernalia)
DAN
Take it easy, Frank.
FRANK
Where is that goddamned kid with his needle and thread?
DAN
He'll be here.
FRANK
I've taken all I'm going to take from that decrepit old gasbag of an anchor and that fat lipped cunt.
DAN
Please, not so loud.
FRANK
I'll say it as loud as I want. (mimics KITTY) "At last I understand why
you can't wite a decent lead." I get my leads right more often than anybody here. Don't I? Don't I?
DAN
Of course you do.
FRANK
If I were the boss here, the editor, the anchor, I'd show her.
DAN
Soon maybe you will be the boss.
FRANK
What? Really? How do you know?
DAN
Well...
FRANK
I heard Jim Lake was just up here. Did he tell you something?
DAN
Well...
FRANK
Spill it, dammit.
DAN
He said everything is still up in the air.
FRANK
Shit. I thought you knew something.
DAN
Oscar's finished. You can be sure of that.
FRANK
What about the survey from Marketing Evaluation? Jim wanted to see that before he made up his mind.
DAN
His mind is made up.
FRANK
Christ, this suspense is killing me.
DAN
Relax, it's between you and Kitty now; and you have an edge.
FRANK
You mean because I'm male.
DAN
Everybody knows that our viewers don't want a female anchor. But that's not all you've got going for you.
FRANK
You mean the little gaffe she made last month?
DAN
When you make an off-the-cuff remark, and it ends up in the New York Times, Time, and Newsweek, it is not a little gaffe; it's a blooperoo.
FRANK
(He mimics KITTY in a hot, sexy way)
I loved it: "A senator will tell you more over a martini at midnight than he will over a micwophone at noon." (He humps erotically) Unhhhh!
DAN
That one remark confirmed everything our viewers have thought about Kitty for years. They see her as a smug, competitive little cock-teaser, and they don't like it.
FRANK
You heard from them?
DAN
Didn't anyone tell you? We were getting angry letters by the carload. Even more than when she made the remark reacting to the story on migrant children.
FRANK
Which one was that?
DAN
You know, after we ran the story on the exploitation of migrant children last year, Kitty recalled on the air how she used to resent being made to clean up her room as a child.
FRANK
Aw, that one blew over months ago.
DAN
But look how long it took to quiet down. Every day at three o'clock the kid would deliver the papers, and boom -- another blast. Kitty would start to cry. Torrents of mascara would drip down her face onto her scripts. She was hysterical. She couldn't handle it.
FRANK
Even so, Jim Lake has always liked her.
DAN
Jim Lake likes high ratings.
FRANK
He likes a high doodle. I think a dyke stimulates him. He's aroused by the thought of two women fucking each other.
DAN (He looks around nervously.) Please, not so loud.
FRANK
I wonder what Mr. and Mrs. Christian Middle America would think if they knew about that bull she lives with -- what's her name?
DAN
Evelyn.
FRANK
The cunt is nothing but an opportunist anyway; she's not a real reporter. She came up reporting on food, women's fashions. Suddenly she's sitting between Anwar Sadat and Menachem Begin, holding a microphone. The three of them would have made a good Cuban sandwich.
DAN
That interview was a coup, all right.
FRANK
She should have come up the way I did, the hard way. I still remember
the first day I started as a reporter at KNXT in Los Angeles. Madame Nhu had arrived from Saigon and was staying at the Beverly Wilshire, For two days I staked out her hotel to get an interview. My boss was furious. He threatened to fire me if I came back a third day empty handed. So I threw myself in her path, down on my hands and knees. (He jumps down on his hands and knees.) I begged her: "Please, Madame Nhu. You've got to speak to me. If you don't. I'll be fired."
DAN
What happened?
FRANK
(rises to his feet) She walked right past me, the arrogant gook, She didn't even glance at me. I was fired.
DAN
You were lucky to have survived.
FRANK
Every other station in town had filmed me groveling. They all showed me on the air that night. Next day, I was rehired.
DAN
They admired your persistence.
FRANK
I want this anchor job. I've waited for it thirteen years.
DAN
Quite honestly, I believe it's going to be yours.
FRANK
I'm a man who's not easily dissuaded when he wants something. I'm willing to take risks.
DAN
I'm behind you one hundred per cent; you know that. But you have to keep one more possibility in mind.
FRANK
What?
DAN
You and Kitty might end up as co-anchors.
FRANK
Never. I'll go over to CBS. I'll take the audience with me.
DAN
Be reasonable. You two would make a dynamite team. Our publicity department is already testing the idea. (DAN pulls from behind anchor desk a large poster, a photograph of FRANK and KITTY standing together, looking earnest, with caption underneath in bold letters, "USBC News -- The Team to Beat.")
FRANK
No.
DAN
(He goes over to wall and hangs poster) Think about it. You two would be the anchor team of the century. You could make history together. (He looks at poster admiringly.)
FRANK
The day I share an anchor desk with that loathsome woman is the day you start shitting strawberries and cream, understand?
DAN
But you wouldn't share a desk. You would be in New York; Kitty would be in Washington. Maybe vice versa, whichever you prefer.
FRANK
No.
DAN
This bitterness is interfering with your economic interests; it's conflicting with your career goals.
FRANK
You know my career goal? As soon as possible, I never want to see that
cunt's face or hear her Elmer Fudd voice again.
DAN
As long as you work here, you may have to.
FRANK
She's dug into me too often. I don't want to hear from her any more about how I do or don't write my leads, or about my spelling or grammar.
DAN
Close your ears. Tune her out.
FRANK
Let her go to the New York Public Schools to play English teacher.
DAN
She didn't like teaching. She was raped in the front of her classroom at Harlem High.
FRANK
You don't say. Maybe that's why men don't arouse her.
DAN
I doubt that's the reason. The rapist was the captain of the women's basketball team.
FRANK
The cunt can tell her problems to Oscar Gasbag. I don't want to hear them. Let the two of them start their own show, just so long as I don't have to look at either of them.
DAN
If you'll only be patient, things will work out.
FRANK
I've been patient for too long. My patience is wearing thin.
DAN
By the way, do you have the story you want to read on Patience Schwartz? (He looks at his clipboard) I think I have thirty seconds for it at the end of the broadcast.
FRANK
(Pulls page from inner breast pocket) Sure. It's right here.
DAN
Let me see it. (FRANK hands page to DAN, who reads it) Wow! This is a lurid one. I don't know.
FRANK
I like it. I'm going to read it.
(OSCAR and KITTY enter)
DAN
What's going on down there? What did you find out?
OSCAR
(A little winded)
I can't climb stairs like I used to. I found that out. (He lights a cigarette, takes a few deep drags.)
KITTY
The bomb squad is still poking around but hasn't found anything. No one knows who made the thweat.
OSCAR
I'll say a few words about the bomb threat in my opening story.
DAN
You want to write them down?
OSCAR
No, I'll ad-lib them.
DAN
Here's a nice little feature for the end of the broadcast. We still have thirty seconds free.
OSCAR
Let me see the lineup.
DAN
(Hands OSCAR clipboard) It'll fit in nicely.
OSCAR
Let me see the story.
DAN
Frank's going to read it; don't worry.
OSCAR
I said, let me see the story, Dan. (DAN reluctantly hands page to OSCAR, who reads it over)
DAN
Stop frowning. The audience will like it. The story has human interest.
OSCAR
(reading) "Patience Schwartz, the first Jewish woman chosen to be Miss Canarsie, was forced to relinquish her title tonight."
DAN
I love it. There'll be real viewer empathy.
OSCAR
(continues reading) "The contest judges learned this afternoon that Hustling Magazine, in its September issue, will publish nude photos of Miss Schwartz making love to a Saint Bernard."
KITTY
How shocking. A Catholic weligious icon.
OSCAR
No. A dog.
KITTY
Oh, dear.
OSCAR
(Hands clipboard back to DAN) This story simply will not do.
DAN
Now wait a minute. We have the time to fill.
FRANK
You're goddamn right. I'm reading that story.
OSCAR
Frank, you should try very hard to limit your swearing if you want to succeed as a broadcaster.
FRANK
I'll swear as much as I damn well please.
OSCAR
You've always had the bad habit of swearing in ordinary conversation. Swearing limits your vocabulary, particularly the adjectives.
FRANK
It does, does it?
(ASSISTANT DIRECTOR and CAMERAMAN enter)
ASSISTANT DIRECTOR
Five minutes to broadcast, Mr. Klinger.
(CAMERAMAN puts on headset, begins adjusting camera. ASSISTANT DIRECTOR goes over notes and papers, preparing for broadcast)
OSCAR
I notice that you sometimes find yourself tongue-tied when you have to clean up your speech. You should practice using other adjectives so that you get more color in your reports.
FRANK
Why, you pompous old ...Pretentiousness like yours I rarely see.
OSCAR
I'm not pretending. I'm trying to help you improve your delivery.
FRANK
I don't need your help. I don't want your help.
OSCAR
Then let me give you the name of a consultant.
FRANK
Don't tell me what to do. Your advice isn't worth a thing to me. What you know about broadcasting I could shove into a rat's ass.
OSCAR
Now is not the time for us to delve into your sex life.
DAN
(Stepping between OSCAR and FRANK) Stop this bickering. Stop immediately. (Looks at his watch) We've only got four minutes.
FRANK
I am going to read that report.
OSCAR
Take your story to the National Inquirer. I won't have it on the evening news. I am the editor of this broadcast.
FRANK
You are nothing. You're washed up, a has-been, a never was, a never will be. I don't have to listen to you.
KITTY
As-long as Oscar is still the anchor, we should abide by his decisions.
FRANK
His decisions have made this news department into the flea-bitten operation it is. Look at where they put this booth. We can't see the rostrum; all we can see is the backs of the CBS, NBC, and ABC booths. We're even behind the print journalists. There's hardly any backup staff. And where is that goddamn kid with his needle and thread. I'm going to kill him when I see him.
KITTY
Why blame Oscar for where they put this booth? He had nothing to do with it.
DAN
That is true. It was Jim Lake's decision
KITTY
Jim has never liked to spend money on news. To him the news department is just a loss leader.
FRANK
(Pulls out a handkerchief and blows his nose noisily) Of course it's a loss leader. Who would want to watch a news broadcast like this one? World affairs, economic analyses: fifty percent of our audience can't understand the stories we run, another forty percent is bored with them. No wonder our ratings are low. No wonder the news department loses money. And who do we have to thank for our stunning success? Why, our distinguished editor here. (FRANK gestures toward OSCAR, who has been ignoring him and reading through a script)
OSCAR
Now is not the time for a critique of the broadcast. (OSCAR puts on blazer, shoots cuffs, places earpiece in his ear)
FRANK
(Goes to OSCAR, grabs story on patience Schwartz) When a good story comes along, a story that can hold the interest of an audience, our editor won't let us read it.
KITTY
Let me see that story. (She takes paper from FRANK)
ASSISTANT DIRECTOR
Three minutes to air.
OSCAR
I've never understood your taste for the lewd and sensational. I sincerely believe that you're in the wrong business.
FRANK
(blows his nose-again) I see. And just what business should I be in, oh wise one who in less than three weeks will have his bloated ass kicked out the studio door.
OSCAR
Pharmaceuticals. The drug industry would be more appropriate.
FRANK
Just what do you mean by that crack?
DAN
Oscar, I'm sure Frank's story is appropriate for...
FRANK
You want to talk about drugs, do you? Why don't you tell us about drugs.
OSCAR
I take lasix and digoxin for my heart. Those are the only drugs I'm familiar with.
FRANK
What about that junkie son of yours, eh? Some father you were.
OSCAR
Now see here, I won't have you...
FRANK (blows his nose) A two-bit, failed actor. What was he full of when he committed suicide? Heroin? Mescaline? LSD? Sterno?
OSCAR
That's none of your...
FRANK
He must have thought he was a peregrine falcon, the way he sailed off the twelfth floor of the Playboy Club. Did they ever make you pay for the crate full of bunny costumes that he crashed into and ruined?
KITTY
His dwug problem is over. Yours isn't.
FRANK (blows his nose)
I don't know what you're talking about.
KITTY
Why do you keep blowing your nose?
FRANK
I have a summer cold I can't seem to shake.
KITTY
I see stweaks of blood on your handkerchief.
ASSISTANT DIRECTOR
Two minutes to air.
FRANK
It's nothing, a nose condition, rhinitis. It started when I was hit in the nose by a sailboat boom last summer. I'm being treated for it by a nose and throat specialist.
KITTY
(nods head) I see.
FRANK
(Fishes in his pocket, pulls out a slip of paper) Here's his bill. (He shows bill to KITTY)
KITTY
A thousand dollars? For that kind of money he could tweat an elephant's nose.
FRANK
What do you expect? He's a Park Avenue specialist, not a medicaid mill.
KITTY
Tell me: This nose condition, is it making you slur your words on the air?
FRANK
Why, you devious bitch. You're trying to imply that I'm a, coke freak. Well, I'm not, get me? (He blows his nose.)
KITTY
You said it; I didn't.
FRANK
I said nothing.
KITTY
You're an illiterate, a newsman who can't even write. (She holds up script for FRANK's story by edge) The parts you added to this story glare like a neon sign: misspellings, mispunctuations, bungled syntax.
FRANK
Don't you hold my script like a turd. Give it to me. (He snatches it)
DAN
Kitty, you're being too harsh. It's a good story. I'm sorry, Oscar, but Frank is going to read it. Now all of you can stop arguing, OK?
FRANK
(to KITTY) You pretend to be a journalist, to have gotten where you are on your merits. How could you have done that? You have the speech of an imbecile.
KITTY
The viewers like me. The women identify with me. That's how I got where I am.
FRANK
Hah! Don't make me laugh.
ASSISTANT DIRECTOR
One minute to air.
FRANK
You got where you are by fucking every news executive in this company.
KITTY
That's a wotten lie.
FRANK
I've always wondered why you bother to put on your panties in the morning.
KITTY
I won't listen to you. You're incapable of telling the twuth.
FRANK
Imagine: a dyke who fucks men to get to the top.
KITTY
You've always preferred young boys, haven't you.
FRANK
You shut up.
KITTY
You ought to wot in jail for what you did to that twelve year old boy in Philadelphia.
FRANK One more word out of you and...
KITTY
He nearly died after you got finished horsewhipping him.
FRANK
You don't know what you're talking about, you scum bag.
KITTY
How much did you have to pay those parents of his to keep quiet? It must have been a pwetty penny.
FRANK
You devious slut.
KITTY
You psychopathic, perverted, subhuman slime.
FRANK
You scheming, vengeful whore.
ASSISTANT DIRECTOR
Absolute quiet please. Ten seconds to air...nine..eight...seven...six..five... four...three...two...one...
(While ASSISTANT DIRECTOR is calling off seconds, KITTY and FRANK are standing close, glaring at one another. Suddenly, FRANK grabs OSCAR's glass of milk from corner of anchor desk and tries to dump it on KITTY. KITTY defends herself, and the milk splashes wildly, mostly over FRANK. At the same time, KITTY picks up OSCAR's piece of pie on plate from corner of desk and manages to squish pie into FRANK's face and over the top of his coat, tie, and shirt. FRANK tries to spit a mouthful of pie at KITTY but misses. As voice over of ANNOUNCER is heard, FRANK and KITTY stand glaring at each other again.
ANNOUNCER (voice over)
(Four musical tones are heard) This is USBC, The United States Broadcasting Company. It's seven P.M., eastern daylight time. (Teletypes are heard) Now, direct from our newsroom at the Democratic National Convention at Madison Square Garden in New York, here is the USBC Evening News with Oscar Klinger. (Red light lights on top of camera. ASSISTANT DIRECTOR exits through control room door SR.)
OSCAR
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. There has just been a bomb threat received here in the convention hall. At this moment, the police bomb squad and specially trained dogs are hunting for the explosive device. No group has yet taken responsibility for making the threat, and...
(shouts off: "stop him," "don't let him escape," "shoot". There is a terrific fusillade of gunfire.)
OSCAR
What's happening out there?
(DICK EVANS staggers through the door. He stands for a moment and coughs up a huge gush of blood, then falls headlong to the floor. As he falls, he drops the contents of a bag in his hand, and a few rolls of thread, packages of needles, and cloth come tumbling out. He is dead)
DAN
Evans, what happened?
(More gunfire, and in runs DELBERT KNUDSON. DELBERT is a tiny man, a Chinese, with thick glasses. He is foppishly dressed in a tight-fitting ice cream suit, a maroon silk cravat with sapphire stickpin, matching pocket handkerchief, highly polished dark patent leather shoes and fawn spats. He wears white kid gloves on his hands. He carries a leather attach‚ case in one hand and a gun in the other. He is quite effeminate and speaks with a polished British accent. When agitated, he breathes noisily through his nose. Though in appearance a pansy, he is a dangerous man when he has a gun in his hand, a nightmarish, surrealistic figure.)
OSCAR
(to DELBERT) Who are you?
(DELBERT fires two shots through the door at his pursuers, then the gun jams.)
DELBERT
Jammed. Bloody cheap Korean import. (He throws the gun out the door in disgust, pulls a second smaller gun from his pocket, then slams and locks the door.)
OSCAR
Who are you?
DELBERT
Who am I? I, my dear fellow, am Delbert Knudson, and you are now my hostages.