Saturday, January 9, 2010
Richie’s room has been converted into a makeshift hospital room. Royal lies on an electric hospital bed. He has an IV in his arm and a tube in his nose. There are several monitors and machines breathing and humming. There are numerous bottles of pills and medicines on the night stand.
Pagoda has on a surgical mask and scrubs.
Chas stands in the doorway. Richie is behind him.
CHAS: Get out.
ROYAL: All right. Let me just collect my things.
Royal sits up on the edge of the bed. He is dressed in pink surgical scrubs.
ROYAL: Would you mind handing me my cane, Richie?
Richie hands Royal his cane. Royal struggles to his feet. He rolls the IV stand beside him.
ROYAL: Let’s see, now. Where’s my suitcase?
Royal’s knee gives out. He staggers a step. He grips the back of a chair and looks to Richie with a surprised expression. He collapses on to the floor. He produces a wooden spoon, which he takes between his teeth.
Richie and Pagoda rush over and kneel on the floor beside Royal. Chas frowns. Richie yells out the door:
ROYAL: Grab me Nembutal, a son.
The Royal Tenenbaums, 2001