Tom Hanks - Uncommon Type - Some Stories

Business slow, is it?

Ever since Eisenhower built the interstates.

That how long you’ve owned this place?

Not quite. But Phil and I have been here since Phrygia was a three-star stop with the Autoclub.

She hands him a registration card and a cheap ballpoint pen.

EXT. MOTEL OLYMPUS—SAME

Ms. Mercury is parking the car. The engine is making lots of horrible noises. Phil comes up.

I think the squirrels are dying.

Three or four quarts of oil and the gnashing sound disappears.

Smoke starts coming from under the hood.

The woods are on fire!

(then)

Shut it down, honey.

Did he just call Ms. Mercury “honey”?

Okay, lamb chop.

She shuts down the engine just as something EXPLODES. The motor stops, but the after-chug makes the car seem alive.

This thing has a life of its own. Pop the hood!

How exactly does one pop that?

She finds a lever and pulls. The hood goes up, emitting a column of smoke.

INT. MOTEL OFFICE—DAY

F.X.R. sees the smoke as Bea inspects the registration card he’s filled out.

F.X.R?

Present!

No credit card, huh?

Lord no. Had one once. For a department store in Flint, Michigan. Ran up a tab, then had to split town.

He never did any such thing.

We’ve seen some of that.

(then)

I’ll need cash. In advance, ’cause I don’t know you.

How much?

Two rooms’ll be thirty-eight fifty.

As he pulls out his western-style wallet, a prop he picked out himself.

(worried)

Oooohhh…

Or, one room with double beds—twenty-two fifty.

(digging around in his wallet)

That much, eh?

Single room, double bed, sixteen fifty.

Turns out, I’ve only got… twelve dollars… and some change.

Well… we’ll give you the only-guests-in-the-motel special, then.

EXT. MOTEL OLYMPUS—DAY

Ms. Mercury leans over the hood of the car with Phil, who is monkeying around with a wrench.

What do I know about cars? I just put gas in it and go.

You’d think it’d be that easy, wouldn’t it?

(he pulls out the oil pump)

You know what this is?

She looks at the part like it is a dead rat.

A dead rat?

This is a De-Hypoxified Fusion Accelerator with Calcitrant Oxyspoilers.

Really?

I can get you another. Just gotta make a call to Tommy Boyer. He’ll run a rebuilt one out here soon as he can.

Fine. Great.

I can put it in for you so you’ll be on your way with the dawn.

At dawn I’ll be in bed for another three hours, but you go ahead.

A shout is heard.

Ms. Mercury!

Heads swivel. F.X.R is with Bea as she unlocks the door to one of the rooms.

Come and see our accommodations.

INT. MOTEL ROOM—DAY

Bea and Phil stand and watch as F.X.R. tests out the bed while Ms. Mercury inspects the bathroom.

I hate to be a pest, but I have a bad disc from a fall I took chopping trees in Alberta.

Ms. Mercury shoots him a look. He never did any such thing.

This mattress will kill me before it gets me to sleep.

(thinking)

Doesn’t room three have a newer mattress?

Only a few months old. I’ll change it, pronto.

(feeling the sheets)

And these, um, “sheets”? Way too scratchy. I have a skin condition.

I can break open a fresh set.

Will they be washed? Nothing is worse than brand-new sheets.

Not even heart disease. I’ll soften them up for you.

(concerned)

Better try the pillows. Too firm won’t be any good for that back of yours.

Too firm and I can’t move my neck in the morning.

(he tries a pillow, grabs his neck)

Ouch! No way!

We sleep with some good down models. We’ll put fresh cases on them and let you have them for the night.

And, finally, this picture here over the bed.

The one of a babbling brook and a farmhouse.

It reminds me of a foster home I once spent an eternity in. Do you have some other painting we could hang?

Ms. Mercury mouths the words “foster home”?

Room twelve has one with some ducks.

I have a fear of waterfowl.

There’s one with some wagon wheels on it in Eight.

Wagon wheels? Why paint wagon wheels? I don’t understand.

There’s a clown face in Room Thirteen.

No way. The thought makes F.X.R. shudder.

How about we just remove all the artwork?

Problem solved.

INT. MOTEL ROOM—DAY

Later. Phil is moving in a new mattress. Ms. Mercury is marveling at the softness of the bath towels, and Bea is putting pillowcases on the borrowed pillows.

(completely amazed)

What do you use to make this towel so soft? It’s like mink!

I just wash ’em, honey. Then I hang them out to dry.

I can’t wait to take a shower!

When you do, let the hot water run. It takes a while.

Okay. Last item. How does a soul get nourishment around here?

Used to be a cafe right across the road. Truman’s, it was called. Great pie. Even better pot roast. Closed in 1991.

Fast-food places over in Chesterton. Thirty-six miles as the crow flies.

I’d rather eat crow than fast food in Chesterton.

Just as well. We’re stuck here. The car blew its oxyspoiler.

(remembering, and bolting)

I gotta call Tommy Boyer!

As he leaves…

Any chance of room service?

If you don’t mind getting your hands a little dirty.

EXT. BACK OF MOTEL—LATER

A mini-farm. Complete with henhouse and garden. Beautifully kept. Bea is expertly inspecting vegetables while Ms. Mercury tries to get tomatoes off a vine.