Midnight Cowboy

CASS: You're such a doll. I hate money, don't you? God, it's been fun.

JOE: Funny thing, you mentioning money. I was just about to ask your for some...

JOE: Don't know what line Morey's in, but myself now, fact is -- I'm a hustler.

CASS: Hers'n zodda meg a livig.

JOE: Beg pardon, ma'am?

CASS: Said, a person's gotta make a living.

JOE: You sure you heard what I said?

CASS: Scuse me, hon, fraid I'm only half here. Maybe you oughta run on along. But why don't you take this phone number?

JOE: Beg pardon, ma'am. I'm brand spanking new to this town, come from Houston, Texas, and hoping to get a look at the Statue of Liberty...

CASS: You're hoping to get a look at what?

JOE: The Statue of Liberty.

CASS: It's up in Central Park, taking a leak. If you hurry, you'll make the supper show. Now get lost.

RALPH: What you gonna do back there, East?

JOE: Lotta rich women back there...

RALPH: Yeah?

JOE: Men, they mostly faggots.

RALPH: Must be some mess back there.

JOE: Well, ain't no use hanging around here.

RALPH: Ain't gonna collect your pay?

JOE: I got me two hundred twenty-four bucks of flat folding money... He know what he can do with that chicken-shit day's pay. And if he ain't man enough to do it for himself, I be happy to oblige!

RALPH: You ain't coming to work?

JOE: Don't guess. Just come for my day's pay owing and to tell you I'm heading East.

RICH LADY: You're not looking for the Statue of Liberty at all.

JOE: No, ma'am, I'm not.

RICH LADY: Why, that's perfectly dreadful. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?

RICH LADY: Were you looking? About the Statue of Liberty?

JOE: Joking? No, ma'am. Oh no! I mean business!

RICH LADY: I'm sorry. I thought you were -- never mind -- I've never actually been there, but let me see, you take the Seventh Avenue subway, I think, to the end of the line...

JOE: You sure are a pretty lady.

JOE: Cut it out. That's cheating, teasing me so I can't think. Just one bitsy Y word and I gonna beat you!

SHIRLEY: You gonna beat me, Joe?

JOE: Beat your butt, you don't lemme think!

SHIRLEY: Gay ends in Y. Fey. You like that -- gay fey -- is that your problem?

JOE: I show you what problem --

SHIRLEY: There's an E in MONEY. If that's your word.

JOE: M-O-N-Y -- I'm right! That's just exactly how they spell it up there on that big building, bet you could see it from here. M-O-N-Y.

SHIRLEY: Okay. Never argue with a man.

JOE: Y -- what in hell starts with Y?

SHIRLEY: That's pretty Freudian, Joe.

JOE: What? It's a perfectly good word, ain't it. How much time I got? Goddam sand thing drive you crazy. Kee-rist. Spelling never was a very strong point with me. Even in school.

SHIRLEY: If you didn't talk so much, maybe you could think more.

JOE: Talking helps. Don't talk, you get muddled in your head. Hey! Now you just look at this here!

SHIRLEY: Maybe we should take a little nap, see what happens?

JOE: I ain't sleepy.

SHIRLEY: I know. Scribbage!

JOE: You think I'm lying!

SHIRLEY: No. Of course not. Just something struck me funny...

JOE: Well, that's something never happened to me before, you can bet your bottom dollar. Uh, where's the matches, ma'am?

SHIRLEY: Top drawer. Maybe if you didn't call me ma'am, things would work out better.

SHIRLEY: He's got taxi fare.

JOE: Sure you're all right?

SHIRLEY: I can tell, can't you?

JOE: Yeah, oh yeah.

SHIRLEY: What'll we do? Leave now or what? Your place or mine? Oh God, the second I looked at you I knew. Did you?

RATSO: Thanks, Joe.

JOE: Shee-it, you know, I got this thing all figured out, Ratso. I mean Rico. When we get to Miami, what I'll do, I'll go to work. I gotta do that, 'cause see, I ain't no kind of a hustler. I ain't even any goddam good as a bum. I'm a nothing, that's what I am. So reckon I'd better go to work and get me a goddam job. Okay?

RATSO: Hey, what the hell you doing?

JOE: I'm zipping your fly, what the hell you think I'm doing?

RATSO: I'm falling apart, that's funny?

JOE: You just -- just -- what happened, you just had a little rest stop wasn't on the schedule.

JOE: Hey -- whatsa matter?

RATSO: I'm wet.

JOE: You're what?

RATSO: I wet my pants! My seat's all wet.

JOE: Hell, don't cry about it!

RATSO: Here I am going to Florida and my leg hurts, my butt hurts, my chest hurts, my face hurts, and like that ain't enough, I gotta pee all over myself.

JOE: If you have to shiver, why don't you pull the blanket up more?

RATSO: I been thinking. I hope we're not gonna have a lotta trouble about my name down there. Because like what's the whole point of this trip anyway?

JOE: Keep the goddam blanket on.

RATSO: I mean New York's one thing, but can you see this guy, imagine it, running around the goddam beach all suntan and he's going in swimming, like, and then somebody yells 'Hey, Ratso' -- how does that sound to you?

JOE: Sounds like they knew you.

RATSO: Sounds like crap, admit it. And I'm not gonna have it. I'm Rico all the time, okay, do you blame me? That's agreed, okay? We're gonna tell all these new people my name's Rico?

RATSO: You get your first palm tree in South Carolina.

JOE: How'n hell a dumb Bronx kid like you know that?

RATSO: I read it.

JOE: Shee-it. You believe all you read?

JOE: These guys're good drivers.

RATSO: They gotta be.

JOE: Yeah.

JOE: Okay. Here it is. You gonna go see the doctor. I got nine bucks and twenty more Thursday and I gonna be riding high before you know it. So you gonna get you the best goddam doctor in this town and get yourself straightened out, that's what.

RATSO: No doctors. No, sir. Not me. Doctors are like goddam auto mechanics. Fix one-thing, unplug another. Operate for piles and while they're there, they unscrew your liver. My old man, for God's sake, wasn't any sicker'n I am when he went to the doctor.

JOE: Well, just exactly what the hell you think you're gonna do? Die on me?

RATSO: I'm going to Florida, that's my only chance.

JOE: You know what's wrong with you? You got fevers. You kinky as a bedbug. How you gonna get to Florida?

RATSO: I'll find the money. If you just get me on the bus, that's all I ask.

JOE: Just when everything's going my way, you gotta pull a stunt like this.

RATSO: I don't even want you to go. Whaddya think of that? I got other plans for my life than dragging around some dumb cowboy that thinks he's God's gift to women. One twenty-buck trick and he's already the biggest stud in New York City. It's laughable.

RATSO: But thanks. Hey, Joe, don't get sore about this or anything. You promise?

JOE: Yeah.

RATSO: Well, I don't think I can walk. I mean, I been falling down a lot and, uh...

JOE: And what?

RATSO: I'm scared.

JOE: What of?

RATSO: What'll happen. I mean what they do to, you know, do with you -- if you can't -- ah, Christ!

JOE: Who?

RATSO: I don't know. Cops. Or the -- how should I know?

JOE: They wrong?

RATSO: No. But while you was buying the underwear, I could have lifted the socks.

JOE: You couldn't lift fly specks from a sugar bowl. Can you hold this?

JOE: Well, if you're awright, why you hanging on the bannister. Can you walk or not?

RATSO: Walk? Naturally I can walk.

JOE: Tell her, Ratso.

RATSO: Twenty bucks...

JOE: Well, I made it. This here is Ratso Rizzo and I...

RATSO: Rico. Rico Rizzo.

JOE: You got a comb?

RATSO: Don't need a comb.

JOE: Few dozen cooties won't kill me, don't guess.

JOE: Well, this thought just struck me. It wasn't too long ago I was washing dishes way the hell somewhere in Texas.

RATSO: Yeah, well, so?

JOE: Now I'm here. I'm in New York City. Getting picked for things. Don't you see what I'm driving at?

RATSO: What you're driving at, you want me to get lost so you can go to your fancy-ass party.

JOE: Did I say that? Did I? It don't say nothing about you...

RATSO: Don't say nothing about you either.

JOE: But they picked me, right? So what I'll do, I'll just say, now look, you want me? Well, I don't go nowhere without my buddy here.

RATSO: Well, what the hell, I got nothing better to do.

JOE: Well, uh, he dam well know he ain't 'be-loved Aunt Winifred'.

RATSO: He can't read. Even dumber than you. Couldn't write his own name. X -- that's what it ought to say there on that goddam headstone. One big lousy X like our flat. Condemned. By order of City Hall.

JOE: Kee-rist, you sure are one twisty little bastard, Ratso.

RATSO: The name's Rico, at my own father's grave, a man deserves some respect.

JOE: Respect shee-it! You even steal flowers for his grave.

RATSO: Can he smell the difference, eh?

RATSO: Where'd that come from?

JOE: Forty-second Street. Where'n hell you think it come from?

RATSO: You wanna know the truth? You dumb bastard, I got it for you. Look at it. Goddam thing's ten sizes too big for me.

JOE: Shee-it. Cough yourself inside out, then light a fag, a goddam fag. You make me puke. Where'd you steal it? In the movies?

RATSO: The coat? A guy I did a favor once gave it to me. Christ.

JOE: Who'd you ever do a favor for? You just let some poor bastard freeze to death, wouldn't you?

RATSO: Not bad -- for a cowboy -- you're okay, you're okay.

JOE: What I'm gonna do, I'm gonna make a cowboy outta you, kid. How about that? Build you up a little, teach you couple little tricks'n turn y'out to stud, Rat-stuff.

JOE: Kee-rist, you pretty damn clever for a skimpy little gimp.

RATSO: You like it? Take a look.

JOE: Don't rush me. How I do it, see, I get myself primed, like I was turning on the charm for some pretty little blonde lady, then kinda mosey away slow and easy and - swing around! -- and there you are, you handsome devil.

JOE: Hey, you're good! I bet you could pick up a living at this if you tried.

RATSO: And end up a hunchback like my old man? You think I'm crippled? You shoulda caught him the end of a day.

RATSO: You ain't got a chance in hell. You need threads and glitter, baby. A front, hey?

JOE: Well, uh, my manager's gonna manage all that crap, or else he gonna get a coconut up his flue.

RATSO: Look at yourself, Joe, no offense, but frankly, you're beginning to smell. For a stud in this town that's a handicap.

JOE: You talk like a man with a tin twat.

RATSO: Miami Beach is the only place for a real hustler. Florida has more rich chicks per square yard than any resort spot in the world. They lie out in their pagodas and pergolas waiting to grab the first jockstrap that passes.

JOE: What's all this sweet talk about Florida? Your friend O'Daniel got a stable down there now?

RATSO: In Florida, they come smooth, ready to eat. Down there, your only problem is, diet-wise, you gotta lift an arm to wipe warm milk off your chin. Tough, hey?

JOE: I think finding you's the smartest thing I ever did, for both of us. You just the crooked kinda sneaky little sidewinder I need to get me hustling in this town. Hey!

RATSO: The two basic items necessary to sustain life are sunshine and coconut milk. That's a known fact. If I can find the goddam hole the milk squirts out.

JOE: This is an okay setup you got here, but I'd say you ain't just exactly, uh, flush, is that right or not?

RATSO: I been sick. Hold this, will ya?

RATSO: Joe -- do me one favor -- this is my place, am I wrong? You know, in my own place my name ain't Ratso. I mean it so happens my name is Enrico Salvatore Rizzo.

JOE: Shee-it, man, I can't say all that.

RATSO: Rico then, at least call me Rico in my own goddam place.

JOE: Rico! Rico! Rico! Is that enough? And keep your meat hooks off my radio.

RATSO: I want you to stay, okay? I goddam invited you, didn't I?

JOE: Well, I hope you know what you're in for. I'm a very dangerous person. Someone does me bad like you. If I caught up with you that night, there'd be one dead Ratso long about now. Hear?

RATSO: I'm impressed. You're a killer.

JOE: So if you want me to hang around for a few days, I thought you should know.

JOE: You want me to stay here tonight, is that the idea?

RATSO: I ain't forcing you, like, I mean, who's forcing you?

JOE: Oh. Guess I got the wrong impression.

RATSO: I drug in a cot, if you want to stay.

JOE: Well now, Ratso, I'm gonna tell you something for your own good, only first gimme a cigarette.

JOE: What for?

RATSO: So you could sleep! I mean Christ!

JOE: You don't seem like no fag...

RATSO: What's that supposed to mean?

JOE: Smart thing for me to do is haul ass outta here.

RATSO: Whatsa matter now?

JOE: Listen, keep away from me, hear? You come near me again, I snatch you bald-headed!

RATSO: I'm inviting you. I mean if you're not located, I got a place. I'm inviting you, goddamit.

JOE: You inviting shee-it.

JOE: You want some free medical advice, shut your goddam mouth about that night.

RATSO: Okay, right, right, okay. Another subject. Where you living? Still at the hotel?

RATSO: You keep the sixty-four cents. I want you to have it.

JOE: It's sticky. What you do, slobber on 'em? I wouldn't touch 'em.

JOE: What's in your socks?

RATSO: Not a cent, I swear to God, I swear on my mother's eyes.

RATSO: Let's see how you look. Fine. You look fine. Now I'm gonna have to have that other ten...

JOE: Ten, ten -- I got a twenty -- take that...

RATSO: Oh hell, forget it.

JOE: Now take it. Go on. Listen, where can I reach you? Cause I'm gonna make this right with you soon's I get me set up...

RATSO: Forget it.

JOE: I mean, dammit, where you live?

RATSO: Tomorrow when some piece like that's scratching your back in a Fifth Avenue townhouse, where'll your pal Rizzo be? Nedicks.

JOE: Hold it, just hold it. You think I'm that kinda sombitch? Just name your cut, whatever you want, you got it right now. Five? Ten, how's that?

JOE: Hey, listen, how about you take me to mee this Mister O'Diddle bird right now?

RATSO: Well, Joe, you're a nice guy, and I'd be doing you both a favor, but why? What'm I dragging my bum leg all over town for? It's no picnic and what for, for me myself, what?

JOE: ... you see what I'm getting at here? She got a penthouse up there with color TV and more goddam diamonds than an archbishop and she busts out bawling when I ask for money!

RATSO: For what?

JOE: For money.

RATSO: For money for what?

JOE: I'm a hustler, hell, didn't you know that?

RATSO: How would I know? You gotta tell a person these things A hustler? Picking up trade on the street like that -- baby, believe me -- you need management.

JOE: I think you just put your finger on it, I do.

RATSO: My friend O'Daniel. That's who you need. Operates the biggest stable in town. In the whole goddam metropolitan area. A stud like you - paying! -- not that I blame you -- a dame starts crying, I cut my heart for her...

JOE: Shee-it... Kee-rist, you really know the ropes. Wish to hell I bumped into you before. I'm Joe Buck from Texas and I'm gonna buy you a drink, what do you say to that?

RATSO: Enrico Rizzo from the Bronx. Don't mind if I do.

JOE: Same all around! For my friend, too!

RATSO: That is one hell of a shirt. I bet you paid a pretty price for it, am I right?

JOE: Oh, it ain't cheap. I mean, yeah, I'd say this was an all right shirt. Don't like to, uh, you know, have a lot of cheap stuff on my back.

TOWNY: Here. Don't even thank me.

JOE: I gotta have more'n ten. I gotta have fifty-seven dollars.

TOWNY: I simply don't have it, Joe.

JOE: Get outta my way.

TOWNY: You're wasting your time. There's nothing in there.

JOE: Listen, I gotta have money.

TOWNY: Oh. Yes. Of course. I should have thought. You shouldn't have to ask. That was thoughtless of me. Yes. Wait here...

JOE: What d'you want?

TOWNY: What?

JOE: What you got me up here for?

TOWNY: Oh, difficult, it's so difficult. You're a nice person, Joe -- I should never have asked you up -- a lovely person. Oh, how I loathe life. I loathe it. Please go. Please.

JOE: You want me to leave?

TOWNY: No, yes. No, I mean yes please go. Help me to be good. Come back tomorrow. Promise.

JOE: I'm going to Florida.

TOWNY: This is terrible. I meet someone who -- then -- wait, I want to give you a present. For your trip. You'll let me please...

TOWNY: Sometimes it seems to me time stopped twenty years ago. There was this war, there was this handsome young man with quite black hair and he was supposed to die. But he didn't. Isn't that amusing?

JOE: What?

TOWNY: A drink? I've got some nice gin. If you'd prefer something else, they'll send it up...

JOE: Gin's okay.

TOWNY: It's so exciting. New York. The mad forward thrust of everything. My sense of time here is completely altered.

O'DANIEL: You're a wonderful boy. You'n me gonna have fun, dammit, it don't have to be joyless. Say, why don't we get right down on our knees now?

JOE: Get down -- where?

O'DANIEL: Right here, why not? I prayed in saloons, I prayed in the street, I prayed an the toilet. He don't care where, what He wants is that prayer.

O'DANIEL: I'm lonesome. I'm lonesome so I'm a drunk. I'm lonesome so I'm a dope fiend. I'm lonesome so I'm a thief, a fornicator, a whore-monger. Poop, I say, poop! I've heard it all and I'm sick of it, sick to death.

JOE: Yessir, I can see that.

O'DANIEL: Lonesomeness is something you take. You bear? Dammit, you take it and go about your business, that's all.

JOE: Well, uh, I'm raring to go.

O'DANIEL: Yes, I believe you are. Cowboy, huh?

JOE: Uh, yessir.

O'DANIEL: Ready for hard work, son?

JOE: Ready for anything.

O'DANIEL: I got a hunch, Joe Buck, it's gonna be easier for you than most.

JOE: Gonna be like money from home.

O'DANIEL: Money from home, see, there's your strength, you put things in earthy terms any man can understand, son. I warn you I'm gonna use you, I'm gonna run you ragged!

O'DANIEL: Am I tickled to find you, boy! Come on in and let's get a look at you. Turn around. Good strong back. You'll need it. So you want help -- take a seat, relax, tell me about yourself. Cowboy, huh?

JOE: No sir, I'm no cowboy really, but I'm a first class stud.

O'DANIEL: Take it,easy, boy... Seems to me you're different than a lotta boys that come to me. Most of 'em seem troubled, confused, but I'd say you knew exactly what you want.

JOE: You bet I do, sir.

O'DANIEL: But I'll bet you got one thing in common with them other boys. I'll bet you're lonesome.

JOE: Well, not too, I mean, a little.

VETERAN: Ever stationed at Kennedy? Those Florida chicks...

MARINE: Instant V-goddam-D.

VETERAN: This Pensacola teeny-bopper -- jail bait -- but built? Ten bucks she wanted. Three of us made a deal for, twenty-five, see, big goddam bargain?

MARINE: Big peni-goddam-cillin bargain, right?

VETERAN: You got it.

MARINE: No. You got it.

SHIRLEY: He fell. Hey, fella, you fell. Is he all right?

RATSO: Is he all right!

SHIRLEY: Sold. Let's go.

RATSO: ... and taxi fare for me.

SHIRLEY: Get lost.

RATSO: I agree. And for that service I charge one dollar taxi fare.

RATSO: You really want to do business?

SHIRLEY: Who's he? Oh God! Don't tell me you two are a couple -- ?