Graveyard Shift Script - Dialogue Transcript

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Graveyard Shift Script



Give me a hand over here!






I'll be over there. I can't deal with it now.



Right! Load it up in the back!



Hello, Doris.



Wanna do me a favour?

Help me load the next order.



You are no lady, Doris.



Far from it.



Good morning, boys and girls!



Did we all remember

to bring our homework today?



We didn't?



We know what happens to little boys

and girls who don't do their homework.



Okay, class is over.



Do you hear me? Class is over!



Okay, I'm just gonna have to make

another example.






I know you're there, Warwick.



You know something?

You just saved me a trip to your office.



I may be desperate for work,

but not desperate enough to...



Everything's set down here!



Okay, let her rip.



God damn!



Adiós, motherfuckers!



Excuse us, please.






Wouldn't mind having his boots

resting under my bed.



One more pair of boots,

you'll have to open a boot shop.



Anyway, he's married.



Daisy May, more coffee.



Daisy May,

let's make us a baby doggie-style.



They found him in pieces.

The rats were all over him.



It was really unbelievable.



What have you got in the bag, pal?



Not very friendly, is he?



I bet his mummy packs his lunch.



Peanut butter and jelly.



Without the crust.



Looks like a boy scout to me.



Maybe a girl scout.



See you around, girl scout!



You ought to see who they're hiring.

She's one cute little chick.



The accidental death at Bachman Textile

has opened the restored mill...



to a series of investigations

and probable lawsuits.



Jason Reed was working the night shift

when the mysterious accidents occurred.



- Good morning, Mr. Warwick!

- Hello.



God, this is bad!



Extreme safety hazard.



Exterminator's working round the clock.



He's tired.



- Needs more time.

- There's already been one accident.



This place must be cleared before

another worker steps foot in this death trap.






July fourth holiday.



I'll organise a cleanup.



I'll hold on to this till then.



I'll be back.



To be honest, I don't think

you'll find a crew that would work here.



Not down here.



We'll see.



Come shower with me. We can save water.



Get a load of the new guy.



Better get up!



This will work out just fine.



- See you later.

- 'Bye.






Good morning.



Do you take coffee, Mr...



Hall. No, thanks. I'll pass today.



Me, too.



Can't be more than an instant enema

by now.



You here by car or by thumb?



By Greyhound.



I see you got a real problem staying put.



Lots of movement over the past five years.



Starts down in Florida,

comes all the way up the map.



Are you on the run, friend?



I'm here for a fresh start.



College boy.



No, that's not the problem.



With all due respect, what is?



Fair enough.



Putting it plainly, Mr. Hall, you're a drifter.



I get no guarantees with a drifter.



You get no guarantees with any man.



There's only instinct.



You spent some time at Munson Textile.



You ever run the picker?



I know how.



Then you also know

it's a one-man operation.



This mill depends on that machine.



And what's left of Gates Falls

depends on this mill.



We don't do better than minimum to start.



Four weeks before the union

comes knocking at your door.



Are you still interested?



- Sounds fair to start.

- All right, then.



That's it, except for the hours.



Because of the heat,

we only run that sucker through the night.



  :   p.m. To  :   a.m.



The graveyard shift.



Spread the word, fucker.






Damn! That's good shooting.



Tucker Cleveland, Martial Extermination.



John Hall.



Looks like one of your buddies

got a little too close to the blower.



I'd love to know how many

of them bean town executives...



are wearing one of your rat-lined overcoats.



No, thanks. Gave that up with the wife.



I should miss her as much.



- You work late hours.

- I have no choice.



The Yellow Pages

are thick with competitors.



I don't mind telling you...



this place is infested.



That may be the understatement of the year.



The schmuck you work for

don't wanna hear that.



Afraid of what it's gonna cost the mill.



He thinks a little tracking poison

will do the trick.



I've been dealing with these things

for more than    years...



and we ain't talking about

no candy-ass field mice.



These sons of bitches

piss on tracking poison...



piss on it to warn their little fucker friends.



Take it from me.



There's only one way to deal with their kind.



On their own terms.



I first met up with them back in Con Tien.



Big as puppies, and they had no fear.



Not of death, nothing, like the Cong.



And I ain't one of them burning-baby,

flashback fuck-ups...



you see Bruce Dern playing,

so quit your grinning.






Conditions being what they were back then,

we had little choice.



We shared the land...



we shared our food with the fuckers...



and they turn around,

stabbing us in the back...



by going to work for the VC.



That's right.



Because the VC would reward them

with a hot meal.



Do you have any idea what a VC rat eats?



Try raw, American...



"Hold the mayo, thank you."



The Cong...



had a way of serving up a meal...



real nice and fancy.



They would stake one of our boys

to the ground...



through his hands, through his feet...



and stake him like Jesus.



And then...



they would make a cut

just above the abdomen.



Now, this wasn't a fatal cut.



This was merely an entry wound.



Then, they'd get a rat...



a real hungry rat.



One they hadn't been feeding

for about a week.



And they'd put it on the wound...



and they'd stick its nose down inside.



And if the damned thing

wasn't starving enough...



they'd cover it with a flaming rice bowl.



And let me tell you...



that grey-black son of a bitch...



would have nowhere else to go but inside.



He'd start clawing his way through...



Looking to put an end

to that loud beating sound.



Like a human artichoke.



So warm, so juicy.



Maybe I'm a little prejudiced.



Anybody call a break?



No laughing on company hours.



Looks like you just bought yourself a shift...



scrubbing the latrines.



I should be downstairs humiliating

the college boy by now.



Bravo, Ippeston!



Now we can get you that audition

on Star Search.



Come here, boy.



We got commitments to our

New York sales office due on Wednesday.



Are we on schedule?



- Yes, Mr. Warwick.

- Fetch me the work order, boy.



- 'Evening.

- 'Evening.



How are you tonight?



We're on time.



In fact, we're slightly ahead.



I'm asking about you, Jane.



How are you?



I'm managing, thanks.



You look tired.



Like you're losing too much

of your beauty sleep or something.



The night shift will do that to a girl.



I try to do my job.

Do you have a problem with that?



Who said anything about a deal?



I'm talking about a promotion.



A cool office, a desk!



This cleanup ain't gonna be pretty, darling.



I got Stevenson down there now,

stringing the lights.



He's pissing and moaning about the heat.



- And it's gonna get hotter.

- I can handle it.



It's double pay, so back off, man.



- Why don't you wisen up?

- Like Nardello?



I'm gonna see you down in the basement.



There ain't no way

they'll get this place settled in a week.



Goddamn rats!



This is a whole bunch of bullshit.






Is that you?






Very funny! I'm laughing my ass off.



How about picking up a...



Oh, damn.



- So what about Stevenson?

- He left in the middle of the job...



and didn't pick up his pay.



Lookee who's here.



Still alive.



- How you doing? Want some coffee?

- Please, coffee and toast.



We got you a little something to nibble on.






Special order

for the Commander of the Rat Patrol.






Do you need a lift?



Hi, sweetheart.



Don't wanna be doing that

in broad daylight.



Then let's do it in the dark.



Mr. Warwick?



Who wants to know?



Tony Carmichael.

I hear you're looking for a few good men.



Come this way.



I'll talk to you later about that there thing.



Nice meeting you, ma'am.



Those guys are assholes.



Every town has them.



That's a depressing thought.



- Which town are you from?

- Wheeling.



West Virginia? That's nice.



How about you?

You lived here your whole life?



No way. I'm from Castle Rock.



Castle Rock. Sounds very Norman Rockwell.



No, it's just Castle Rock.



I'll see you around.



You're on the basement cleanup crew,

no doubt.



- Not that I know of.

- You will be.



I know Warwick,

and you're a prime candidate.



I bet your wife ain't too thrilled.



Losing you through the night, and all.



We gotta do what we gotta do, right?



My wife's dead.



I'm sorry.



Thank you for the ride.



Take care.



Keep the lights as high up to the ceiling

as possible.



We'll get a water vac in here tomorrow.

Mop this shit up.



Welcome aboard.



You're jumpy, aren't you, kid?



Not to worry. The rats don't bite.



What happened to the fellow

who started this job?



What happened?



He didn't work out.



He needs this typed right away.



- What is it?

- Cleanup crew.



Looks like you made the list, Nardello.



Basement cleanup!



Clean up this, Warwick!



- What the fuck is she doing?

- Where's Warwick?



He's right there.



He's gonna be wicked pissed.



How can you do this to me?



You like it rough, don't you, Nardello?



You can't put me down there.

You can't put anybody down there!



I know things.



What are you talking about?



You better watch what you're saying.



I don't think so.



I think from now on

you better watch what you're saying.



Come on. I'll take you home.



All right.



The show's over.



Everybody go back to doing

what you were doing.



I'm sorry. I thought you were a rat.



You're not the first.



I wanted to drop in and thank you.



Sorry about that situation with Nardello.



Tempers flared.



It was a big misunderstanding.

You know how it is.






As a show of gratitude...



I want to offer you the chance

to earn some extra cash.



Next week is the July fourth holiday.



The mill is shut down.



That means vacation week

for most of our people...



those with the union.



Layoff week for the rest.



But there is work available for a select few.



We got that cleanup thing

going on down in the basement.



Regular graveyard shift hours,

and I'm handpicking the crew.



To tell you the truth...



I've watched you work...



and I like your style.



Gonna be a mess, no doubt about it.



That bastard ain't been touched

since Christ was a kid.



But it's for double pay.



Now you tell me

if an educated guy like you...



can't use double pay.



- Thank you, Mr. Warwick.

- You are so welcome, Mr. Hall.



Hey, Commander.



Hey, rat man.



You must feel awful special.



You're gonna be down in the shit pit

with the rest of us.



I bet he likes your style.



Wait a minute, he said he liked my style!



What's going on?



Guess who finally made

Warwick's cleanup crew?






Do you want to get out of here?









- You were hungry.

- Yeah, for decent food.



It's been a while.



I worked a spell

as a short order cook in Miami.



Mostly burgers.



I want to hear the rest of your story.



You got married and left Castle Rock

against your father's advice.



Why are dads always right?



I don't know.






It wasn't too long after my divorce...



Warwick came sniffing around.



He said he wanted to help. He felt bad.



So he offered me a promotion

to office manager...



to ease my emotional

as well as financial burdens.



All I'd have to do in return...



was perform a couple of days a week

on the couch in his office.



He even had them picked out.



Monday and Wednesday.



- Son of a bitch.

- Should've brought him up on charges.



I tried, and was advised by Personnel

to see a therapist.



They couldn't get rid of me.



I was saved by the union and the fact

Warwick would look like the shit he is.



So I'm still here.



On borrowed time, I guess.



I bet you hate him, too, Mrs. Warwick.



This will teach you to fire me,

you son of a bitch.









Do you want to try it?



Leave the ghetto blaster back in the ghetto.



Yes, sir.



Don't want anybody being cute

with one of these.



You'll end up spraying

one of your buddies back onto a slab.



Work areas are listed over there

just like we talked about.



Jobs are split evenly night by night.



Tried to keep it interesting.



Any questions?






we need to have this basement

in a workable state by next Thursday.



We only have the chain hoist for one night.



Execute these orders,

you'll get through it without a snag.



And then what happens?

Do we get a gold watch or something?



Sure beats nailing them with soda pop.



What are you doing?



Warwick said to list everything.



Fifty-year-old files are crap.

List them as fifty-year-old crap.



It's not salvageable.



Hey, check this out.



Come on, take a break.



The longer it takes,

the longer we'll be down here doing it.



This thing's in great shape.






No problem.



Where are you going, asshole?



You goddamn ignoramus,

you almost killed me!



What the hell is your problem, Brogan?



I ain't got a problem.



You got a problem?



Look, guys, this is crazy.



We were hired as a cleanup crew,

not as exterminators.



I need this money as bad as the next guy,

but we are not damn exterminators!



What's your problem, boy?



- We were hired to clean the basement up.

- "We"?



Are you speaking for everybody?



Or just yourself?



Just me, Mr. Warwick.



"Just me, Mr. Warwick."



You'd best be punching out your time card.






Is that clear, boy?



Did somebody call a break?



Control that sack of fleas, Cleveland.






Moxy, come on over here.



Moxy here is a real special breed.



A rat terrier.



He didn't waste his puppy years

down at the beach...



playing Frisbee with Frankie and Annette.



He was too busy training.



Tracking rats through walls,

through concrete.



Looks to me like he doesn't always win.



Moxy, cut that out!



We've got ourselves a little problem,

you and me.



Our sister mills along the river

don't take too kindly...



to having their backyards

polluted by rat stew.



Our own Mr. Bachman

has graciously agreed...



to keep your name

out of any impending lawsuit.



You are legally responsible...



when it comes right down to it.



Ain't you a kick in the nuts.



First off...



I was called personally by Bachman...



and told to pump directly

into the river because...



just between you, me, and Moxy...



he was too cheap

to spring for the dumping charges himself.



I hope you got that in writing.



- Fuck you!

- No, fuck you.



This kind of thing can cost you

your exterminator's license.



But again...



no one's naming names.



We're only asking you

to provide one additional service.



I got an idea where them things are nesting.



It shouldn't take you more than a night.



What is it you got me doing?



When was the last time

you been to a graveyard?



Come on, Moxy!



The sooner we find their little home...



the sooner we can get back to ours.



Go on, Moxy, get them.

Eat them for breakfast!



Come on, Moxy.



There just ain't no job worth this.



Ain't no dog worth it, either.



- Just a few more hours.

- I know.



The break's over.



Back to work!



- It's almost over.

- I thought it would never end.



Place still looks like shit.

What do they want to put down here?



- A nightclub.

- Really?



You must've been

at the top of your class, Brogan.



Truth is, they're expanding for offices.



Who would have an office down here?



- Hey!

- What?



Look at this.



What you got, kids?



A trapdoor.



Ain't that interesting?



It certainly is.



That's where your rats are coming from.



They're breeding underground.



You know it all, don't you?



Hey, boys...



come on over here!



- I can't get at it.

- Brogan, give me a hand!



I wonder what's down there.



Fetch a lamp.



You're not thinking of going down?



Me? No, sir.



Johnny's on hoses tonight.



I trust his judgment,

him being a college boy and all.



On one condition.



I'll need an extra body

to help me carry the line.



Name your body.



You, Mr. Foreman.



The management should be represented

in this little adventure.



Don't you think?



In case there is buried treasure,

I don't want to be accused of stealing.



You first.



I'll be right after you.



I'm going.



Danson, Carmichael, come on, get up!



Brogan, you too!



At Bachman

we're just one big happy family.



Yeah, the Manson Family.



You all right?



Let's go over there to set you down.



Come on.



Brogan, watch your step.



What the hell have we got here?



A bygone power source. Water power.



Looks like it hasn't worked in years.



Smells like stale piss down here.

I say we turn around right now.



So much for your breeding ground, Hall.



- Does it hurt?

- Yeah.



Brogan, you're a regular bug light.



I see him!



Grab hold of the wood!



I'm coming down!



There's something down here!



Hold on!



Oh, Jesus.



- There he is!

- Please help me!



Come on.



He's dead. Brogan's dead!



Shut up, Carmichael!



Give me that.



We can use these for weapons.



Something our friend Hall hasn't got.



I'll deal with her and Hall.



Fuck Hall. Forget about Hall.



Start thinking about

whatever the hell is down here.



He found the opening.



He brought us down here.



We wouldn't be here if it weren't for him.



So don't go telling me my business.



You're going out of your mind, Warwick.



You just stood there

and watched Brogan die.



You didn't.






It's a dead end.



There must be some other way out of here.



Wait, listen.



Wait a second!



There's gotta be a way out.



Here. Grab a hold of this.



Which way do we go?



What do you have there?



Water. Pretty loud.



Do you hear it?



Sounds like the river.



I knew this was a way out.



It's your moment, Carmichael. You go first.



Go on. We'll be right in back of you.



There's a hole here.



I think we can break through.



It's wet.



Something's got my arm!



Help me!



What is it?



Help me! Something's got my arm!



Danson, move!



Please, somebody help me!






It's blocked!






The river!



Help me!



Help me!



All right, now.



We're gonna take this nice and slow.



No more! No more!



I'm not going! I'm not going anymore!



Do you want to die?



I'm not going anywhere!



It ain't that bad.



It's ice cold.



I'm very close.



We'll never get through that way.



At least not with that thing.



Help me!



We're going to make it.



I know.



- Are you ready?

- Yeah.



This must be where it lives.



Come on, let's go.



Mr. Foreman.



Come on, let's lift him up.



- It's really bad.

- We should let the bastard bleed.



Hold this for a second.






We are going to hell.






There's only one way

to deal with these fuckers.




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