"The Pilot" continued...

Pictures for "Pilot"

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% {Scene: Gary sits on a lakeside bench, thinking. It is now Monday morning. Gary holding a cup of coffee.}

% {Scene: Gary walking down hallway at the hotel where the cat and the paper are waiting. Gary picks up the paper and stares at the cat.}

SC: Meow. Meow.

% {Gary opens the door and the cat runs in his room. Marissa is waiting there with a dog.}

MC: Its about time.

GH: What are you doing here?

MC: Your bellman let me in.

GH: Well, look. If its alright with you, I don't want any company right now, so...

MC: I don't give a rat's butt what you want. What's wrong with you?

GH: What? Nothing, I'm fine. What's your dog's name?

MC: Spike. What's your cat's name?

GH: That's not my cat.

MC: Acts like he's your cat.

GH: Well, its *not* my cat.

MC: Now what is your problem?

GH: I told you, I don't have a problem. I'm fine.

% {Gary tries to put his coat down on the bed and it falls on the floor as he says "I'm fine"}

MC: No? You quit your job. You take me out for a lunch you don't eat. And then you drop 15 Grand in my lap and disappear off into the sunset. I mean, who do you think you are? The Lone Ranger?

GH: Oh, that's very funny.

MC: You know, Gary, there's lots of people in this world that think that being blind is the same as being stupid. Are you like that? Do you think I'm stupid?

GH: No, I don't think you're stupid.

MC: Then tell me.

GH: Alright, fine. You wanna know about it? Because of me, there's a guy in the hospital, and he might never wake up, and I coulda stopped that. You wanna hear about that?

MC: Yes, I do.

% {Scene: Gary in shower}

GH: And that's about it. It comes every day, like it or not.

MC: Which you don't.

GH: You got it.

% {Gary whips back the shower curtain, sees Marissa standing there holding a towel, and covers himself back up with the curtain.

MC: Where's it coming from?

GH: The hallway.

% {Gary takes the towel and wraps himself up.}

MC: That's not what I mean.

GH: Can you...could you, ah...

% {Gary gestures for Marissa to leave so he can dress.}

MC: Maybe it comes from God.

GH: Oh right, yeah. Yeah, God's a cosmic paperboy.

MC: Look, if God can be a burning bush, He can be any damn thing He likes.

GH: You don't really believe that, do you?

MC: World's full of miracles, Gary. You don't always need eyes to see 'em.

GH: Yeah, well. I'm not too big on miracles right now.

MC: Well, that's too bad, being as its happening to you.

GH: Well, yeah. Why me? I'm just an ordinary guy. I'm no Superman. What, am I supposed to run around in a little red cape and save the world?

MC: You might look good in a cape.

GH: Oh, you think that's funny? Well, let me tell you something. I didn't ask for this thing. I don't want it, and I don't need it. Give the damn thing to somebody else.

SC: Meowww.

MC: Gary, you don't need to be a hero to make the best of what you're given. And you've been given this.

% {Marissa hands the paper towards Gary}

GH: And what am I supposed to do with it?

MC: You're supposed to do whatever you can.

% {Gary takes the paper, dated Tuesday, November 19, and reads the headline, "9 Killed in Bank Holdup." He turns to the story inside. "Tragedy could have been prevented, say police." Gary reads the story and we see, in black and white, what happened}

GH: "A tragic series of events ended in disaster Monday afternoon, at a bank on Chicago's south side...

% {Frank Price walks into bank...}

GH: ...An out of work factory worker, Frank Price, who had earlier been turned down for a loan, returned to the bank, armed, near closing time. Authorities say the suspect panicked when the teller set off an alarm...

% {Frank reaches inside coat pocket for gun...}

GH: By the time it was over, 9 people were dead, including the suspect himself." Oh, no. Uh-uh.

Spike: Woof, woof.

% {Scene: Gary and Marissa leaving hotel room, met in the hallway by Chuck}

GH: You can give me a cat in a tree, or a flat tire on the bus, but not this.

MC: You could at least tell someone.

GH: Who?

CF: Hey, Gar. Where you been? Good doggie. Oh, look - the paper.

MC: You could tell the police.

GH: I am *not* going to the police.

% {Scene: Police station}

GH: Ahem. I'd like to report a situation.

OG: What kind of situation?

GH: Ahem. A future one.

OG: Tagliotti.

% {Scene: Gary in Detective Tagliotti's office}

GH: Detective Tagliotti?

DT: Um-hmm.

GH: Ah....I, ah...

DT: I can't wait to hear.

GH: I wanna report a crime.

DT: Well, lucky for you, you're in a police station. Sit down. When did it happen, today?

GH: No, not exactly.

DT: Yesterday? Last week?

GH: Ahem. Well, it hasn't happened yet. But, but it's going to unless you stop it.

DT: Domestic dispute?

GH: No. No, its a robbery. Well, at least it starts out that way, at the First National Bank. It...well, you see, at least it's *gonna* be.

DT: Uh-huh. Do you have any ID?

GH: Yeah, uh, the guy's name is Frank Price. He's out of work. He got turned down for a loan, and, ah, he's a very desperate man.

DT: Ok. Let me get this straight. We've got a guy, a bank, a loan, some kind of robbery?

GH: Well, no. It's not a robbery yet. But it's gonna be.

DT: Gonna be. Just for the record, not that I doubt you, you know this because....?

GH: Oh, I can't tell you that.

DT: O'Grady, have you heard of anything over at First National Bank?

OG: Yeah. Flyin' saucers.

DT: So, we're onto it.

GH: Thank *you.

% {Scene: Gary, Chuck, Marissa heading down steps at police station. Tagliotti watches them}

GH: They almost locked me up.

CF: Good call, Marissa.

MC: Who asked you?

CF: Woah. Sensitive.

GH: Look, can we just get out of here?

Spike: Woof, woof.

% {Scene: Gary, Chuck, Marissa at restaurant}

GH: Forget it.

MC: Gary, listen to me.

GH: Yeah. I listen to you, I end up in the loony bin.

MC: Alright, I was wrong. So sue me.

CF: Right. No harm done. You tried, you failed. A noble effort. Move on. Gary, where do we start?

% {Chuck makes a grab for the paper}

MC: The bank.

GH: How's that?

CF: Sports. Sports are good.

% {Chuck starts fingering the paper}

MC: Maybe it's not enough to tell someone. Maybe you have to *be* there.

GH: Oh, no. No. We are, we are *not* going down to that bank.

CF: Good call. Check out the NBA.

MC: Well, it's worth a try.

GH: Yeah. We tried, it didn't work.

CF: Of course, there's always the NHL.

MC: So you're just gonna throw in the towel? You just gonna stick your head in the sand?

GH: Oh, no, no, now that's not fair.

MC: You know you can't *do* that.

CF: Alright. Let's just relax, O.K., Mother Teresa?

% {Chuck grabs the paper}

MC: Butt out.

CF: Go walk your dog.

% {Chuck starts to read the paper and Gary grabs it away, dropping it on the floor by Spike}

CF: Now, you see what you did?

% {Chuck goes to pick up the paper}

CF: Easy boy. Ok.

Spike: gggrrowwwllll

GH: Look, I did everything I could do. I'm sorry.

MC: Sorry.

GH: Well, where you goin'?

MC: I always hated that word, "sorry." Go figure. Come on, Spike.

CF: Gary. Here's your paper. Uh, listen, I forgot I had a one-fifteen, so, I'll see you later.

% {Chuck runs out of restaurant}

CF: Taxi!

% {Gary glances at paper and sees the headline has changed to "10 Die in Holdup"}

GH: Ten. I thought it was nine. Ten? Marissa.

% {Paper says to "see story and photos, page 9" so Gary turns to page 9, but it's missing...}

GH: Stupid paper. Page 9. Where's page 9?

% {Gary, realizing Chuck must have taken it, runs out of restaurant to find him}

GH: Chuck?

% {Scene: Chuck at a bar watching Football and betting with other guys}

CF: Touchdown. Yes!

Fan: I don't believe this. The guy hasn't run the ball in two years. How did you know that?

CF: Intuition. That's 50 bucks, pal. Thank you very much. Alright, anybody else wanna get in on the action? I'm feeling like, ah, maybe a fake punt in OT? Anybody? I'm feeling very lucky today. It's my night.

% {Chuck's statement is abruptly cut off by Gary. Gary has come into the bar, and he Chuck and turns him around in the chair}

GH: Page 9.

CF: I have no idea what you're talking about.

% {Gary starts to rummage through Chuck's coat}

CF: What are you doing, Gary? Easy. Stop, huh?

% {Gary finds page 9 in Chuck's coat}

CF: Oh, *that* page 9. I thought...that's page 10. That's not page 9. Gary. Where you goin'? Hold it! Gary! Listen, fellas, I gotta go.

% {Chuck closes up his briefcase full of money and follows Gary out of bar}

GH: Taxi!

CF: Gar, Gar. It's not what you think. I was bettin' with my guts, my instinct. I barely looked at the paper at all.

GH: I need some money. How much you got in there?

CF: Five bucks.

% {Gary gives Chuck a "how stupid do you think I am" look}

CF: Thirty-seven hundred and change.

% {Gary grabs the briefcase and hops into the cab}

CF: Hey, that's my good briefcase.

GH: First National Bank, and move.

% {Chuck tries to get into the cab, but it's already leaving}

CF: Hey! Hey! Gary! Oh, Taxi!

% {Scene: Inside the First National Bank}

GH: Marissa.

MC: Well, if it isn't the King of Sorry.

GH: Yeah. Marissa, you gotta get out of here, now.

MC: Gary, calm down. I told them. Everything is under control.

GH: What'd you tell 'em?

MC: I told them to be on the lookout for a desperate man.

% {Gary sees Frank Price enter the bank}

GH: Uh-oh.

MC: Uh-oh what, Gary?

% {Frank reaches into his coat for a gun}

FP: Nobody...

GH: Alright, nobody move! I'm a desperate man.

% {Bank alarm goes off}

MC: You gonna tell me what's goin' on here, or am I gonna have to guess?

BG: Alright, get down.

% {Frank tries to leave the bank, but sees the guard standing there in the way}

GH: Frank? Frank. Frank, you don't wanna do this.

% {Frank pushes Gary out of the way and runs through the bank, followed by Gary}

BG: Halt!

GH: Frank!

% {Frank and Gary run into an elevator}

GH: Hi.

% {Frank points gun at Gary}

FP: How do you know my name?

% {Scene: Frank has gun pointed at Gary as the elevator heads up to the top floor. Cut to commercial.}


% {Scene: Roof of Bank. Frank is pushing Gary around}

FP: Out here! Now! God, how did this happen? Move, move, move!

GH: Where?

FP: Anywhere.

GH: Frank, you sure you wanna do this?

FP: Shut up!

GH: Ok. No problem.

% {Scene: Street in front of the bank. Police cars pull up. Crumb gets out of one.}

ZC: Alright, what do we got here?

CB: Sir, it's hard to say.

ZC: Well, say it anyhow.

CB: It looks like a robbery.

ZC: Caught the guy?

CB: Kind of.

% {Crumb sees other policemen dragging Marissa off to a police car}

MC: Get your hands off of me!

ZC: You're arresting a blind woman?

CB: We think she's the lookout.

ZC: The lookout.

CB: For the guy on the roof.

ZC: What guy?

CB: The guy with the gun.

ZC: The gun.

CB: There might be a gun. We're not sure.

ZC: Is that it?

CB: Well, not exactly.

ZC: Well, spit it out.

CB: There's a hostage.

ZC: Perfect. Six months from retirement, and I gotta deal with this? Where's my phone? Where's my walkie? Where's the damn coffee?

% {Crumb has walked off. Tagliotti enters the scene with O'Grady}

DT: You, ah, see any flying saucers?

OG: Not yet, but I'm looking.

% {Tagliotti and O'Grady walk past another police car where Marissa is still being held.}

MC: Don't you know your *job*?

% {Enter Chuck}

CF: Oh my God. What is going on? Gary.

% {a man tries to cross the police barricade and the police stop him}

Cop2: Not so fast. Come on back here, sir.

Man: [You can't] keep people out.

% {Chuck takes advantage of the distraction and ducks under the barricade himself}

Cop3: Who do you think you are?

% {Chuck pulls out and flashes his wallet trying to intimidate and fake out the Cop}

CF: I'm, ah, Federal Marshall Rabidowitz. Never mind that. Who's in charge?

Cop3: Come on, get outta here.

DT: Hey! I know this guy. Let him through.

% {Scene: Roof of bank}

FP: God, this is not what I wanted.

GH: Yeah. I know what you mean.

FP: You a cop or something?

GH: No.

FP: Talk.

GH: The Cubs look good this year, huh?

FP: The Cubs? The Cubs suck.

GH: Well, that's what I meant to say. The Cubs suck.

% {Scene: Street in front of bank}

DT: Detective? Just hear these people out.

ZC: I don't have time.

DT: They may have some information.

ZC: What kind of information?

DT: Um, first, keep an open mind.

ZC: What kind of information?

DT: About....what's going to happen.

ZC: What are they? Psychics?

CF: Broker.

MC: Receptionist.

ZC: And you call yourself a cop.

DT: Yeah. I've been wondering that, too.

ZC: Alright, Mr & Mrs Houdini. You got thirty seconds. What do you know, and how?

MC: We read about it.

CF: Yeah, in the paper.

MC: Um-hmm.

CF: I didn't see it, actually. I only saw the sports, but, ah, *she* read it.

% {Crumb walks away}

% {Scene: Roof of bank}

FP: I just wanted for someone to listen. I didn't... And you had to screw it up. Why?

GH: Listen, Frank, I don't have time to explain, just...

FP: Just answer the question!

GH: Because people were gonna die.

FP: What? I wasn't gonna, I... Or maybe I was. I don't know.

GH: Listen, Frank.

FP: How do you know my name?

GH: Well, I know a *lot* about you. Look, the layoff at the plant, the medical insurance, you got turned down for that loan. Look, Frank. You got a raw deal. Look, I understand what you're going through.

FP: You? Don't make me laugh, pal. I mean, look at you. I mean, what do you know about losing everything you thought you ever had?

GH: Heh. Try me.

% {Scene: Street in front of bank. Crumb and a marksman.}

ZC: First shot you get, take him out.

MM: Which one?

ZC: How should *I* know? Shoot the bad guy.

% {Scene: Roof of bank}

FP: Sixteen years, I worked that job. Never missed a day and... You think you're building something like a future for your family, then... Then one day, you know, phhht, just like that, it's gone.

GH: Yeah.

FP: I looked everywhere for work, and there's nothin', its.... That's why I came here. This is the place I kept my money in, your savings in all those years. And, you know what they said to me? They said they couldn't take the risk. Like I was asking for a handout. Or like I was nothin'. And so, umm....

GH: What am I supposed to do now.

FP: Yeah. My wife's gonna be really upset.

GH: She loves ya, huh?

FP: It was 19 years, and, you know, three kids.

GH: It'd be a shame to lose that, Frank. A wife and kids. It'd be a shame to lose that.

FP: Yeah, well. You think that, um...

GH: They never even saw the gun, Frank. And if money will help, its yours.

% {Gary offers the briefcase full of money to Frank}

FP: Yeah, but did it help you?

GH: No.

% {Frank sets down the gun}

FP: So what do we do now?

% {Scene: Street in front of bank. Crumb and Marksman still looking for the bad guy.}

% {Scene: Roof of bank}

GH: And you're sure you wanna do this?

FP: Yeah.

GH: Hold your fire!

% {Scene: Street in front of bank}

ZC: What the hell?

% {Gary and Frank dump all the money from Chuck's briefcase over the rooftop and crowd cheers and starts to pick up the bills.}

CF: Oh, my. That's *my* money. Oh, no. No, no. That's *my* money. You don't understand. That's *my* money.

% {Scene: Front of bank}

NC: Exact details are not yet clear. All we know is this hostage situation has been resolved. And thanks to some quick action by Chicago police, a potentially dangerous felon has been apprehended.

% {Frank walks out of bank with hands ready for the cuffs. Police brush him aside and start cuffing Gary instead.}

AO: You're under arrest. Let's move it.

GH: What did I do? Easy, easy. Hey, what's goin' on?

DT: Don't know yet exactly, but we're sure as hell gonna find out. Right, Superman?

% {Gary is put in back seat of police car while Frank stands nearby}

DT: Ok. Let's move.

CF: Gar!

% {Police car drives off as Chuck watches. Chuck turns around to Frank}

CF: 'Scuse me. You got five bucks for a cab, big guy?

% {Scene: Police station. Gary's effects are dumped out onto table and he starts to pick them up after signing for them}

GH: Thank you.

OG: Anytime.

GH: Can I go now?

DT: No reason to hold ya. For the record, you wouldn't want to change your story, would ya?

GH: To what?

DT: Anything remotely believable.

GH: Nope. I just hope I never see you again.

DT: Next time...

GH: Ah, there won't be a next time. Believe me.

DT: Yeah.

% {Scene: Lobby of Blackstone. Gary and Chuck get off of elevator. Gary is carrying his suitcase.}

CF: Gar, Gar! Come on. Reconsider!

GH: Nope.

CF: What about the cat? What about me?

GH: Spike. Take care of her.

MC: Where you going?

GH: Where they can't deliver. Thank you.

%{Gary hands room key to bellman, Chuck runs to grab it back}

GH: Here you go.

CF: Woah, woah. Not so fast.

% {Scene: Hotel room. Chuck in bed waiting for the paper to come. Clock flips to 6:30 am and radio comes on.}

Radio: Good morning. It's Wednesday in Chicago, and here's the news at this hour...

% {Chuck turns off the radio and someone knocks on the door. Chuck scampers off to answer it. He opens the door, looking down, and sees feet instead of a cat with a newspaper. We hear a man's heavy breathing, and Chuck looks up to see a mask-wearing exterminator.}

Ext: I'm here to spray for the roaches.

% {Scene: A cabin in the woods somewhere.... Gary sleeping, phone off the hook.}

SC: Meooowwww.

% {Gary wakes up, perplexed. He goes to the front screen door and sees the cat and the paper}

% {Scene: Chuck's ending monologue, Chicago streets. Marissa walking, joined by Gary}

M: There are no explanations, of course. But that's nothin' new. Magic's like life. Mostly unexpected. Which means, newspaper or not, you can never be sure what's around the corner. Or what you'll do when you find it.

GH: Hey, Marissa!

MC: What took you so long?

GH: I had a hunch about the lottery. I thought I might send some of the money to Frank.

MC: Well, that's a good idea.

GH: How's Sherman.

MC: Oh, he's fine. Be back at the newsstand in two weeks. So, ah, decided what to do with the rest of your life?

GH: Gotta find a new place to live. A place that takes cats.

MC: Yeah, and then?

GH: I gotta buy a kitty litter box.

MC: (laughs)

% {End}

Closing Credits:

Executive Producer: Lillah McCarthy, Michael Dinner, Bob Brush

Three Characters, Inc.
Angelica Films
CBS Productions
TriStar Television, a Sony Pictures Entertainment company

Associate Producer: Steven Heth, Dan McCaffrey, Julia Rask

Casting by: Steven Jacobs

Michael Bacarella Fan

Maury Cooper Homeless Guy

James "Ike" Eichling Shaunnessey

Neil Flynn Cop at Newsstand

Don Forston Exterminator

Marianne Hagen Marcia

Tracy Letts Marksman

Malcolm Rothman Guard at Bank

Jeff Still Cop at Bank

Bill Visteen Charlie

Alan Wilder Friendly Guy

Linda MacLennan Newscaster

Jim Fierro Police Stunt Driver #1

Randy Popplewell Police Stunt Driver #2

Unit Production Manager: Harvey Waldman

First Assistant Director: Matthew Carlisle

2nd Assistant Director: Aimee Kohn

Stunts Coordinator Rick LeFevour

Costume Designer: Kaye Nottbusch

Costume Supervisor Susan Kaufmann

Camera Operator: Garrit Dangermond

Production Sound Mixer Curt Frisk

Gaffer Gene Crededio

Key Grip: Don Miller

Set Director: Joe Bristol

Props Master Kim Lange-Bolanowski

Locations Manager Paul Marcus

Construction Coordinator Ron Kane

Production Supervisor: Patti Small

Production Coordinator Debra Oyer

Supervising Sound Editor: Brian Risner

Music Editor: Allan K Rosen

Re-Recording Mixers: Rusty Smith, Greg Orloff

Assistant Editor: Marta Evry

Assistant to Bob Brush Rob Montgomery

Assistant to Michael Dinner Liz Carranza

Assistant to Lillah McCarthy Tom Daniels

Telecine and Electronic Assembly by: Encore Video, Inc.

Presented in: Dolby Surround where available

Re-Recorded at: Sony Pictures Studios, Culver City, CA

Main Title Design by: Nina Saxon Designs

Copyright (c) 1996 TriStar Television, Inc CBS Inc All rights reserved

TriStar Television Inc, and CBS Inc, are the authors of this film/motion picture for purposes of Article 15(2) of the Berne Convention and all national laws giving effect thereto.

This Motion Picture is protected under the laws of the United States and other countries, and its unauthorized duplication, distribution, or exhibition may result in civil liability and criminal prosecution.

The characters and incidents portrayed and the names used herein are fictitious, and any similarity to the name, character or history of any person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

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