· · ·

pay tax on the car. Repairs and

maintenance. Goddamn kids pesterin'

you to take 'em for a ride...

MERT

And drive it, if they're old

enough.

HADLEY

That's right, wanting to drive it,

wanting to learn on it,

f'Chrissake! Then at the end of the

year, if you figured the tax wrong,

they make you pay out of your own

pocket. Uncle Sam puts his hand in

your shirt and squeezes your tit

till it's purple. Always get the

short end. That's a fact.

(spits over the side)

Some brother. Shit.

The prisoners keep spreading tar, eyes on their work.

HEYWOOD

Poor Byron. What terrible fuckin'

luck. Imagine inheriting thirty

five thousand dollars.

RED

Crying shame. Some folks got it

awful bad.

Red glances over -- and is shocked to see Andy standing up, listening to the guards talk.

RED (CONT'D)

Hey, you nuts? Keep your eyes on

your pail!

Andy tosses his Padd in the bucket and strolls toward Hadley.

RED (CONT'D)

Andy! Come back! Shit!

SNOOZE

What's he doing?

CONTINUED: (2)

FLOYD

Gettin' himself killed.

RED

God damn it...

HEYWOOD

Just keep spreadin' tar...

The guards stiffen at Andy's approach. Youngblood's hand goes to his holster. The tower guards CLICK-CLACK their rifle bolts. Hadley turns, stupefied to find Andy there.

ANDY

Mr. Hadley. Do you trust your wife?

HADLEY

That's funny. You're gonna look

funnier suckin' my dick with no

fuckin' teeth.

ANDY

What I mean is, do you think she'd

go behind your back? Try to

hamstring you?

HADLZY

That's it! Step aside, Mert. This

fucker's havin' hisself an

accident. Hadley grabs Andy's

collar and propels him violently

toward the edge of the roof. The

cons furiously keep spreading tar.

HEYWOOD

Oh God, he's gonna do it, he's

gonna throw him off the roof...

SNOOZE

Oh shit, oh fuck, oh Jesus...

ANDY

Because if you do trust her,

there's no reason in the world you

can't keep every cent of that

money. Hadley abruptly jerks Andy

to a stop right at the edge. In

fact, Andy's past the edge, beyond

his balance, shoetips

scraping the roof. The only thing between him and an ugly drop to the concrete is Hadley's grip on the front of his shirt.

HADLEY

You better start making sense.

CONTINUED: (3)

ANDY

If you want to keep that money, all

of it, just give it to your wife.

See, the IRS allows you a one-time-

only gift to your spouse. It's good

up to sixty thousand dollars.

HADLEY

Naw, that ain't right! Tax free?

ANDY

Tax free. IRS can't touch one cent.

The cons are pausing work, stunned by this business discussion.

HADLEY

You're the smart banker what shot

his wife. Why should I believe a

smart banker like you? So's I can

wind up in here with you?

ANDY

It's perfectly legal. Go ask the

IRS, they'll say the same thing.

Actually, I feel silly telling you

all this. I'm sure you would have

investigated the matter yourself.

HADLEY

Fuckin'-A. I don't need no smart

wife-killin' banker to show me

where the bear shit in the

buckwheat.

ANDY

Of course not. But you will need

somebody to set up the tax-free

gift, and that'll cost you. A

lawyer, for example...

HADLEY

Ambulance-chaaing, highway-robbing

cocksuckers!

ANDY

...or come to think of it, I

suppose I could set it up for you.

That would save you some money.

I'll write down the forms you need,

you can pick them up, and I'll

prepare them for your signature...

nearly free of charge.

(off Hadley's look)

I'd only ask three beers apiece for

my co-workers, if that seems fair.

CONTINUED: (4)

TROUT

(guffawing)

Co-workers! Get him! That's rich,

ain't it? Co-workers... Hadley

freezes him with a look. Andy

presses on:

ANDY

I think a man working outdoors

feels more like a man if he can

have a bottle of suds. That's only

my opinion.

The convicts stand gaping, all pretense of work gone. They look like they've been pole-axed. Hadley shoots them a look.

HADLEY

What are you jimmies starin' at?

Back to work, goddamn it!