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TALENT AGENT Well kid, (setting his cigar down in an ash tray) it's interesting, I'll say that. But it's not commercial.
MARTY Not commercial? Mister, don't you know what you're listening to? This is rock 'n roll!
The agent shook his head as he heaved his body out of the chair.
TALENT AGENT Call it what you want to kid, but don't call it music, 'cause it sure ain't that!
MARTY But you don't understand --
TALENT AGENT No buts, kid. I've been in this business my whole life and I know what people want. The smooth sound, that's what sells. Como, Crosby, Dinah Shore. Gimme a melody and a nice slow tempo. Now beat it!
He opened the door and shoved Marty into the waiting room. Marty stood where he was, trying to figure out what had happened. A few seconds later the agent tossed his guitar case out of the room and slammed the door. He hardly noticed the black man in a silk shirt approaching him.
REGINALD WASHINGTON That sound I just heard coming through the door, that was like nothing I ever heard before! I mean, you got something there, young man!
MARTY At least one person had recognized rock'n roll for what it was! Who are you?
REGINALD WASHINGTON Reginald Washington is my name. I manage some of the local bands around town and I think you've got something we can promote all the way to the top! Now, I've got a real important cat comin' in from a New York record company on Monday the 18th, and I want you to play that music for him. I think the time has come for a sound like that.
Marty grinned at his words. Reginald took a business card from his pocket and jotted down the date, time, and place on it with a pencil.
REGINALD WASHINGTON That's March 18th, Noon. Be at my office. What's your name?
MARTY Marty Mc - Marty Lewis.
REGINALD WASHINGTON Marty Lewis. See you on the 18th.
He handed him the card and shook his hand. Marty looked at the card, not believing his luck.
MARTY This is great! Right on, brother!
Reginald gave him a strange look.
REGINALD WASHINGTON I think you're a little mixed up. There is absolutely no way that I could be your brother.
He turned and walked away. Marty glanced at the card again and smiled.
INT. BROWN MANSION
That evening, Marty stood before the mirror in the bedroom Professor Brown was letting him use. He had changed back into his 1982 clothes and was practicing the guitar, making sure he looked good. He had been doing it for close to fifteen minutes when he heard the front door open and slam shut.
Stopping in mid-note, Marty hastily placed the guitar in a corner of the room. He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it up and adding to the illusion that he had spent the whole day lying around the house. On his way out the door, he grabbed the business card off the bed that Reginald had given him earlier that day and stuffed it in his Porsche jacket, draped over a chair.
Marty ran down the stairs and saw Professor Brown pouring himself a drink. He looked up as Marty came in the room, a scowl on his face. For a split second, Marty worried that he might have found out about his trip into town.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN Well, I found an energy source that can generate the 4200 rads that we need....
Marty looked at him expectantly, waiting for the answer.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN An atomic bomb.
MARTY Professor, be serious, would you?
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN I am serious. If we could get you, the time machine, and the power converter in the vicinity of an atomic blast, we could send you back to the future.
MARTY You're talking crazy! An atomic blast would melt me and the time machine in a matter of seconds!
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN You forget -- time travel is instantaneous. The time machine would melt, but you would have already travelled through time. Of course, it's a moot point regardless. The only place atomic bombs are detonated is at the Army's Nevada Test Site, and those tests are kept absolutely top secret.
Marty suddenly recalled sitting in class on the day he had left, the lecture Mr. Arky had given him. He remembered ripping a particular page out of the textbook for Suzy, and pocketing it in his jacket. He whirled around and pounded up the stairs to his room.
Marty grabbed the jacket and checked the first pocket. Yeah, there was the textbook page. He quickly unfolded it, the business card from Reginald falling out as he did so. Marty's eyes flew to the caption of the picture: Last above ground atomic test, 15 megatons, March 18, 1952, Atkins, Nevada.
The date seemed familiar.... Marty picked the business card off the floor and checked the date on it beside the page. They were the same.
Marty looked between the two objects in his hands for a long moment, trying to figure out what to do. Maybe get home -- or get nuked -- or stay in the fifties and maybe become famous -- and alive at least. He crumpled up the page and tossed it in the garbage just before Professor Brown entered the room.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN Marty, what's wrong?
He slipped the card back in the jacket and shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant.
MARTY Oh -- nothin'. I thought I left the water running.
The Professor's eyes zeroed in on the guitar in the corner of the room. He stepped over for a closer look before Marty could stop him.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN Say, where did this guitar come from?
MARTY Oh -- that -- I found it in the closet.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN I don't recall ever seeing it before.
MARTY Well, it was there.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN Curious... Very curious....
INT. BROWN MANSION - MORNING
Late the next morning, Marty stirred and opened his eyes. It was another bright, sunny day outside. He smiled slowly, thinking of his audition a few days away, and crawled out of bed. The house was quiet, with the Professor at work.
Marty went downstairs and into the kitchen. Professor Brown had left the coffee pot on and he cheerfully poured himself a cup, then opened the refrigerator and pulled out the new bottle of milk. He got the stopper out in a matter of seconds, without breaking it, too. As Marty added the milk to the black coffee, he started to sing.
MARTY So you wanna be a rock 'n roll star...
The doorbell rang before he could get any further with the song. Marty rolled his eyes and set the milk down. He was going to have to go through this again? Marty left the kitchen and headed for the front door. He shook his head as he reached for the knob.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN Look, Professor! I'm not -- oh!
The words died in his throat. Marty stared at Eileen, standing on the doorstep, hugging books to her chest. She smiled at him and Marty smiled back, weakly.
EILEEN Hi, Marty.
MARTY Uh, hi....
Eileen, his mother jumped in. Marty gave another weak smile. It was hard for him to say her name.
MARTY Right. Eileen.
The smile faded from Eileen's face.
EILEEN You remember me...?
MARTY (mumbles) How could I forget? (to Eileen) Oh, sure, I remember you.
EILEEN Well, I was on my way to school, and I just wanted to stop by and see if you were feeling okay. You seemed like you were in pretty bad shape the other night.
MARTY Oh, I'm feeling much better now.
The smile returned to Eileen's face.
EILEEN How long are you planning on staying?
Marty shrugged.
MARTY Actually, it looks like I'm gonna be stuck here for awhile.
Eileen's smile grew wider.
EILEEN Then you'll be going to school here....?
MARTY School? I never thought of school! If I went to school I could blend in with everybody else, couldn't I?
Eileen blinked, puzzled.
MARTY What time does school start around here?
EILEEN Nine o' clock. (glancing at her watch) Oh, I'm late! Maybe I'll see you later.
MARTY Yeah. Maybe so.
Eileen flashed another smile at him, then turned and hurried down the walk. Marty shut the door and headed for the upstairs.
EXT. HIGH SCHOOL
Not much later, Marty walked up the steps of his future high school, amazed at the change. The grafitti was gone from the building, as were the broken windows and overall run-down worn-in look the place had held before -- or would later. All the tall trees on campus were much smaller, maybe half the size they were in 1982. The bell rang as he reached the door, a notebook in hand, and students streamed into the hallways.
Marty stared openly at his classmates. They all looked like people from an old movie, with the hair and clothes, the way they acted.... He walked through the hall and passed an open door. The classroom looked familiar and he stopped, looking inside.
INT. HIGH SCHOOL
After a moment of hesitation, Marty walked inside. Yeah, he had been in it before! But everything looked a lot different -- newer. And the chalkboards were black, not green. He went over to the desk that would be his in thirty years and ran a hand across the smooth, shiny surface, devoid of any marks or carvings.
You there! he heard someone yell. Someone familiar....
MR. ARKY What are you doing in this class?
Marty lifted his head up and found himself looking at Mr. Arky -- thirty years younger! His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened as he stared at the science teacher. He looked so different, age aside. Their was an energetic spark in his eyes that hadn't been there when Marty would have him for a teacher.
MARTY Mr. Arky?
Marty asked, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He wasn't.
MR. ARKY Yes, that's my name. Who are you, young man? Are you supposed to be here?
MARTY Uh -- yeah. I'm new here, and I'm supposed to be in this class.
Mr. Arky nodded.
MR. ARKY You have a name?
MARTY Marty. Marty Lewis.
Marty watched the girl in the seat next to him, his eyes focused on the old fountain pen she was filling with ink. He couldn't believe it. Where were the pens he was used to?
In the background, Mr. Arky continued with the day's lecture. Marty listened to him with half an ear, not paying much attention.
MR. ARKY ...and it is, of course, due to science that we Americans enjoy the highest standard of living in the history of the world. When we think of the technological advances made in just the past thirty years, it boggles the mind to imagine what the world will be like in another thirty years. I think I can safely say that we can all look forward to a world of plenty, a world free of disease and starvation. There'll be entire cities built under the sea, cars that can go two or three hundred miles an hour.
Marty stared at Mr. Arky in disbelief. Could he be serious? Marty glanced around and noticed the rest of the class looked bored, as if they had heard the lecture before.
MR. ARKY You girls will be able to cook an entire meal, clean the entire house, and do all of your laundry and ironing by push button, the science teacher went on. You may even have a robot to assist you in all your duties as a wife.
STUDENT I hope those robots won't be assisting in all my wife's duties!
The class laughed, but Marty was distracted by something. Where had he heard that voice before? It sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it....
MR. ARKY Well, Biff, since you seem so eager to get into this discussion, perhaps you'd like to tell us what you think you'll be doing in thirty years?
Marty turned around and saw Biff Tannen -- thirty years younger, of course -- slouched in the back desk with a bored expression on his face. Surrounding him were three other guys who were obviously friends of his. One was missing two front teeth, one chewed on a wooden match, and the other had a crewcut that made him look nearly bald. Marty stared at Biff, who appeared just as obnoxious as he was later in life.
BIFF I know what I won't be doin', he said with a smirk on his face. Goin' to school!
His three cronies broke out laughing.
GUMS Hey, Biff, good one!
SKINHEAD Ataway, Biff!
Biff suddenly noticed Marty's stare. He scowled at him.
BIFF What are you lookin' at, asshole?
Marty met Biff's glare, then turned away. Mr. Arky continued with his class, the confrontation unnoticed.
MR. ARKY Anybody else have any ideas about what life might be like in thirty years?
The teacher's eyes roamed the class for volunteers. No one volunteered, as usual. At least this hasn't changed , Marty thought with a chuckle.
MR. ARKY Mr. Cusimano? Miss Voyles? Miss Kaner? So am I to understand that no one has anything at all to say about the future? (shifting his gaze to Marty) How about you, Mr. McFly?
Marty felt his face drain of color. He had been caught!
MARTY (muttering) Oh shit...!
A few kids turned their heads to stare at him, shocked at his words, including Biff. Marty hardly had a chance to notice that when the student in front of him started to speak.
GEORGE Well, I, uh....well....
Marty glanced at him, and did a double take. That person stuttering was none other then a younger version of George McFly -- his father! Marty couldn't believe it! First his mother, now this! George was a mess, shoulders slumped, hair uncombed, and an overall nerdy, wimpy look about him
MARTY Jesus Christ! Dad!
The entire class now stared at Marty. Mr. Arky ignored it as best he could.
MR. ARKY Continue, Mr. McFly.
Marty's father stood up slowly, as if he were getting called to his execution. Marty sighed and buried his face in his hands, shaking his head.
GEORGE Well, I -- uh -- could you repeat the question?
BIFF Sit down, McFly, you stupid moron! I can't see!
A second later, a spitball hit George in the back of the head. His face red, George sat down. Marty whipped his head around, furious, and glared at Biff.
MARTY Hey, lay off!
Biff glared back at him, his eyes narrowed in slits of hatred.
MR. ARKY Did you say something, Mr. Lewis?
Marty didn't hear him, continuing to give Biff the worst look he could.
MR. ARKY Mr. Lewis, I'm talking to you!
Marty snapped out of it, remembering who he was supposed to be.
MARTY Who, me?
MR. ARKY You're the only Mr. Lewis in this class. If you have something to say, say it so the whole class can hear.
MARTY Well, yeah, I was thinking, if cars are gonna be going two or three hundred miles an hour, they're gonna be using an awful lot of gas. Like, what if we run out?
MR. ARKY Run out of gas?
The class started laughing. Marty looked around, baffled. Was what he said that funny?
MR. ARKY Well, class, it seems we have a doomsayer in our midst. I must say, Mr. Lewis, that's a mighty pessimistic attitude for a young man like yourself. First of all, with all the studies we have indicating the vast supplies of petroleum in the earth, plus the massive reserves that have yet to be discovered, the likelihood of any such shortage is highly remote. And even if the most improbable, catastrophic circumstances were to occur and we did have a shortage of petroleum, I'm sure that American technology and ingenuity would overcome the problem in no time at all. All in all, I'd say your time would be better spent worrying about the real problems that face our world, instead of a shortage of gasoline.
At the back of the class, Biff and his group started to make farting noises.
BIFF Hey, we got plenty of gas back here!
The class erupted into laughter once again. Marty just shook his head.
Not much later, the bell rang, ending the science class. Everyone made a mad dash for the door, including Marty. He'd had enough humiliation for the day with Mr. Arky.
INT. HIGH SCHOOL - HALL
George waited until most of the other students had left before gathering up his books and heading for the door. Marty separated himself from the mob in the hall and stood outside the door, waiting for him. A minute later, George finally walked into the corridor. Marty waited a moment, then followed him, keeping his distance.
When they reached a hall intersection, Marty noticed Eileen headed for the two of them, her friend Madge with her. She didn't seem to see Marty, but her eyes locked on George and she smiled at him.
EILEEN Hi, George.
Marty watched as George looked over at her and became so flustered that he walked straight into another student in the hall. Eileen and her friend giggled and walked away. George's eyes followed her until she was out of sight, then he walked over to a drinking fountain.
As he leaned over and turned the fountain on, he misjudged the distance and the stream of water hit him right in the face. Marty shook his head from a few feet away, as George wiped the water from his eyes. From the fountain, George headed over to his locker. Marty watched him dial the combination and, as he opened the locker door, a pile of books fell out, nearly knocking him over. Marty looked away, sighing.
After George picked up his books, he started moving in the direction of the cafeteria. As Marty got in the lunch line behind him, he noticed a large poster tacked on the wall. Something about the Springtime in Paris Dance on Saturday, March 16th. Not too far off.
INT. CAFETERIA
Marty turned his attention to his father, watching the bored cafeteria ladies shovel out a overcooked pork chop, wilted salad, and green stewed tomatoes. Looks like the food isn't much better now then in 1982, Marty thought, amused. George didn't seem to notice. Leaning forward a little, Marty could hear him muttering to himself.
GEORGE Eileen, if you're free Saturday night... No... Eileen, would you like to go to the dance... no...
Something suddenly clicked and Marty looked at the poster again. Yeah, now he remembered! That was the dance his parents fell in love at!
The lunch line moved slowly, but eventually both he and George got through it. George looked around the crowded lunch room, searching for someone. Marty tried to follow where his eyes were roaming and after a moment, he realized George was staring at the table where Eileen, Madge, and a few other friends of theirs were sitting. George took a deep breath, then started walking over to the table. Marty followed, not too far behind.
As George approached the table, his hands started shaking, causing everything on his lunch tray to wobble around.
GEORGE Uh, Eileen?
Eileen turned around and gave him a warm smile.
EILEEN Hi, George.
Marty watched his future father, a bundle of nerves.
GEORGE Eileen, could I ask you something?
The creamed corn on his tray suddenly tipped over and spilled.
GEORGE Ooops --!
Eileen smiled again, obviously not put off by it. George took another deep breath.
GEORGE Uh, well, the thing is, that is, what I wanted to ask you....
Marty decided this was too important to miss and crept closer so he could hear better. Unfortunately, Eileen spotted him.
EILEEN Marty! (waving to him) Hi, Marty! Over here!
George spun around before Marty had a chance to do anything. The sudden movement causing George's entire tray to slip from his hands and spill all over his shirt.
GEORGE Oh God! Excuse me, please!
He started to run off, but Marty grabbed his arm.
MARTY Wait a minute -- aren't you gonna ask her to the dance? That was what was supposed to have happened, wasn't it?
George stared at him.
GEORGE Huh? How did you know?
Marty pushed him towards Eileen.
MARTY Go ahead, George. Ask her.
George shoved his arms away.
GEORGE Leave me alone!
The gesture shocked Marty, but he shook his head.
MARTY You've gotta ask her to the dance!
GEORGE Not now....
George muttered, looking around the cafeteria. People were beginning to stare. Eileen had been watching the whole ordeal with interest. Now she spoke up.
EILEEN Is that what you were going to ask me, George? To go to the dance?
GEORGE No!
George shouted, running away, out of the cafeteria.
MARTY George! Wait! Get back here! You're not supposed to run off! It doesn't happen that way!
George didn't look back. Marty threw his hands up in the air helplessly.
MARTY Oh, God, this is all wrong!
Eileen stared at him with concern.
EILEEN What's all wrong?
Marty ran a hand through his hair, agitated.
MARTY George! He's supposed to ask you to the dance!
EILEEN But he didn't ask me.
MARTY But he does! Don't you see?
By the blank expression on Eileen's face, it was obvious that she didn't. Marty quickly explained:
MARTY He comes out of the cafeteria line, he's nervous, he spills his corn, and he asks you to the dance!
EILEEN Marty, you haven't been listening. Nobody's asked me to the dance...yet.
She gives him a flirtatious smile before picking up her empty lunch tray and walking away. Oh, no she couldn't be.... Marty sat down in a chair, quick, as his legs threatened to give out on him. Eileen, his mother, she -- she....
MARTY I know.
INT. BROWN MANSION
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN You did what?!?
Professor Brown yelled as Marty finished telling him what had gone on that morning. It was later in the afternoon, they were in his study. Marty had gone to the Professor right away, since he had no idea what to do and needed some advice. His friend was taking the news better then Marty had expected.
MARTY I didn't mean to do it -- it was an accident!
Professor Brown shook his head.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN Do you realize what that means? Do you have any idea what that means?
Marty shrugged.
MARTY Look, it's not a big deal! I can fix it! All I gotta do is get 'em together and make sure my old man asks her out!
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN You better make sure your old man asks her out, because if he doesn't, they may never have a first date. And if they don't have a first date, they won't have a second date. If they don't have a second date, they won't fall in love. If they don't fall in love, they won't get married, and if they don't get married, you'll never be born!
Marty swallowed hard.
MARTY Well, maybe everything is a little worse then I first thought, he realized.
EXT. MALT SHOP
The next day, Marty brought George to the malt shop. It was after classes and all the high school students were in there, including Eileen.
GEORGE I don't know if I can go through with this!
George moaned as they drew closer to the building. Marty dodged two kids on homemade scooters as they sped by them on the sidewalk. His eyes followed them for a moment, the vehicles reminding him of skateboards.
MARTY George, she's beautiful, right? She's nice, she's decent, she's the kind of girl you'd like to marry, right? And there's nothing in the world you'd like more than to take her to that dance, right?
GEORGE Well... yeah...
MARTY Okay, then!
Suddenly, George stopped, turned and faced him, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
GEORGE Wait a minute -- who are you, anyway? What are you doing this for?
Marty hesitated.
MARTY Let's just say I have a vested interest in you and Eileen going to this dance, all right? Look, (pointing though the window of the malt shop) There she is...
Eileen was sitting at a table with Madge and some other girl, each having ice cream sodas and talking.
MARTY Go in there and invite her.
Marty nudging George in the direction of the doors, but George stayed put.
GEORGE What do I say?
MARTY Say what you were supposed to say in the cafeteria.
George shook his head quickly.
GEORGE Oh, no! That was for the cafeteria! This is different!
MARTY Christ, it's a miracle I was even born! (mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes)
GEORGE Huh?
MARTY Nothing. Look, I'll write it down for you, okay?
Marty took the notebook George had in his hands and ripped a page out. He pulled his pen out and started jotting down some helpful lines. George stared at the pen as he wrote.
GEORGE What is that? A pencil that writes in ink?
MARTY It was Marty's turn to be confused. Huh?
GEORGE Lemme see that.
George plucked the pen from his hand and looked it at it carefully.
GEORGE 'Bike fine point?'
MARTY Bic... It's a Bic pen.
George frowned. How do you fill it with ink?
MARTY Fill it with ink? You don't fill it -- oh come on, George!
INT. MALT SHOP
He pushed him into the malt shop, tired of the procrastination. As soon as they entered, Marty steered him in the direction of Eileen's table and handed him the paper he had written on.
MARTY There she is, he said in a low voice. Just go and ask her. I'll be sitting right here.
Marty takes an empty seat at the counter. George looked at him, and then over at Eileen. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, then suddenly veered back to the counter.
GEORGE Gimme a strawberry malted
Marty shook his head, wondering if he would ever get to Eileen. While he waited for the drink, George examined the paper Marty gave him and mouthed the dialog to himself, apparently trying to memorize it. A moment later, the malt came and he took a swig of it, the drink leaving an unnoticed pink moustache on his face. He turned around and started to approach Eileen. Finally, Marty thought. George was still several feet away when Eileen looked up and spotted him.
EILEEN Hi, George!
He took a step back, startled.
GEORGE Uh, hi, Eileen.
EILEEN How are you?
GEORGE Oh -- I'm all right. Say, listen, about this dance Saturday night --
The door to the malt shop was suddenly thrown open.
BIFF Hey, McFly, I thought I told you never to come in here!
Biff Tannen stood in the doorway with his gang behind him. George took one look at him and shuddered. Marty let his head fall in his hands with a sigh. They had been so goddamn close!
BIFF Well, it's gonna cost you, McFly. How much money you got on you?
George pulled out his wallet and opened it.
GEORGE How much do you want, Biff?
Biff crossed the room, on his way to George. As he passed, Marty stretched his leg out and tripped the bully. Biff crashed to the floor, taking a chair down with him. People started to laugh, but Biff scowled. He didn't think it was too funny. He got to his feet and stepped over to where Marty sat, his back to him.
BIFF Listen, asshole, he growled, it's about time I taught you a lesson.
Biff put a hand on his arm and at his touch, Marty spun around on the stool and threw his fist into Biff's face! Unprepared, Biff fell back onto a table. Marty jumped off the stool. The cafe was deathly silent and Biff's three henchmen started to approach him. Marty decided it was time for him to leave the building and he pushed his way out of the crowded teen hangout and onto Main Street.
EXT. STREET
Marty ran down the street, hearing the pounding footsteps of Biff and his gang behind him. He cast a quick look over his shoulder and saw them closing the gap that separated them. He was going to be dead meat! One of the kids on the homemade scooters sailed by, and Marty suddenly had an idea. He grabbed the scooter and pulled it away from the kid, kicking the orange crate off the board with the skates on it and leaving a crude skateboard!
Marty jumped on it and sped down the street. Biff and his gang stopped in their tracks and stared at him, amazed. Likewise with the crowd that had moved out of the malt shop.
BIFF In the car!
They raced to the black convertible, Biff getting behind the wheel. He gunned the engine, heading straight for Marty. Marty glanced over his shoulder and saw the convertible quickly gaining on him. He cut a sharp turn in the middle of the street and crossed before Biff's car, then started to retrace his steps back to the malt shop. A car passed him, and Marty grabbed onto the back of it, ignoring the stunned looks of everyone around, including Biff and his gang.
Biff executed a quick U-turn and continued his pursuit of Marty. As he passed the malt shop, the spectators cheered.
MADGE Did you see that?
Eileen nodded, her mouth open, impressed.
Biff's convertible raced past the cafe, hot on the trail of Marty. Marty risked another look back. His eyes widened in panic as he saw Biff's convertible closing in on the distance, quick. Was there no end to his maniacal determination? Marty turned his attention back to the front. He saw Hill Street intersecting up ahead. Instinctively, he released his hold on the car and leaned into the board, turning it onto the street. Biff once again overshot the street and had to do another U-turn to get on it.
Hill Street was not named by accident -- it was incredibly steep. At the bottom of the hill was an intersection with traffic lights. Marty felt the board pick up speed. Behind him, Biff was putting the pedal to the metal, the tires actually leaving the ground as he leapt onto Hill Street! Once again, he quickly closed in on the distance between the convertible and the skateboard. Marty crouched down, cutting the wind resistance down, and the skateboard picked up speed. He was approaching the intersection, fast! The light turned yellow.
Closing his eyes and mouthing a silent prayer, Marty flew through the traffic, cars skidding to a stop and swerving to avoid hitting him. Miraculously, he made it to the other side unscathed. Such could not be said for Biff. His breaks locked up as he tried to avoid a red car ahead, and the convertible's tires skidded across the road. Marty winced in anticipation as Biff headed straight for a red car. At the last minute, the car pulled away and Biff slammed into a cop car in the next lane of traffic! Two big cops immediately got out and headed straight for Biff, not looking too happy.
Biff let out an angry sigh.
BIFF I'm gonna get that son of a bitch!
Marty left the site, a satisfied smile on his face. Biff had gotten what he deserved. He turned onto a residential street, his mind wandering as he leisurely skateboarded. About ten minutes later, he reached an intersection next to his future home, and saw Eileen approaching the house...with George! Marty skidded to a stop, grabbed the board, and ducked behind some bushes to watch.
George, carrying Eileen's books, was walking her to the door. They were talking, but Marty couldn't catch any of the conversation. After a moment, George gave Eileen her books and they shook hands very formal-like.
He must've finally asked her to the dance! Marty sighed, glad to have that mission finally accomplished and dropped his board on the ground, skateboarding away from Eileen's house to the Professor's place to tell him the news. He never saw George, after Eileen had closed the door, throw his jacket down in the street and slump down in the gutter, dropping his head in his hands, dejected instead of exuberant.
INT. BROWN MANSION
That evening, Marty lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling in deep thought. Eventually, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the business card from Reginald. Marty looked at it for a long time...then shredded it into tiny scraps. He pushed himself off the bed and let the papers fall into the trash can. Then he pulled out the crumpled textbook page and went downstairs with it, heading for the study.
Professor Brown was seated at the desk, his back to the door, hunched over something. As Marty entered, he made a quick movement, as if he was trying to hide the fact he had been listening to the micro-cassette recorder again, the gunshot portion. Marty didn't notice, too caught up in his own problems.
MARTY Professor, you were right about everything. I don't belong here. I almost screwed up my existence again today while I was trying to put it back together, and I've had enough. I want to go back to the future.
Marty handed him the textbook page, pointing at the caption under the photograph. The frown on the Professor's face changed to a smile and his eyes lit up.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN Where did you get this?
MARTY I brought it with me from 1982. It's from my science book.
Professor Brown looked at it more closely.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN The test is this Monday! 15 megatons... Let's see, we need 4200 rads... (doing calculations on a slide rule, lying on the desk) You'd have to be...exactly 800 yards from ground zero... You realize that what we're going to do could be extremely dangerous.
MARTY Believe me, Professor, running around on a nuclear test site can't be any more dangerous than what I've been doing.
The Professor stared at him a moment, then nodded.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN All right, here's what we'll do: we'll get an Army Surplus Truck, mount the time machine and power converter on it, and drive it to Nevada. If we leave by Saturday night, we can make it to the test site in plenty of time. And just to be on the safe side, I'd better build a lead-lined time chamber for your added protection. I don't know if I trust these atomic bombs.
The telephone rang before Professor Brown could say anything else. He reached over and picked it up.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN Hello? Uh, no, Eileen, he can't come to the phone right now.
Marty stared at him, his heart starting to pound with alarm.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN All right. Yes, I'll tell him... Good-bye.
He hung up and turned to Marty with a grave expression. Marty had a sinking feeling that he was not going to like what he had to say. He was right.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN Your 'mother' wanted me to tell you that she was very impressed by what you did this afternoon, and that if you were interested in going to the dance Saturday, she's available.
MARTY But that's impossible!! George asked her out! He had to! I saw him walk her home! Oh, God!
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN My guess is that she turned him down.
MARTY But why? Why would she do that? She's supposed to marry the guy!
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN Apparently, what has happened is that the maternal instinct has transcended the gap of time and this has caused an alteration in your mother's emotional behavior.
MARTY (swallowing hard) Are you trying to tell me that my mother's got the hots for me?
The Professor thought about that for a moment.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN In a manner of speaking, yes. And because of that, she's no longer interested in your father.
MARTY Jesus!
Marty sat down in a nearby chair.
MARTY What are we gonna do?
INT. MALT SHOP
Marty stepped into the malt shop the next day, his eyes on Eileen and Madge, both sitting at the same table as they were the day before, once again talking and drinking ice cream sodas. He crossed the room and sat down with them, to Eileen's delight.
MARTY How ya doing, Eileen?
Eileen smiled. She and her friend exchanged a glance.
EILEEN Hi, Marty!
MARTY Listen, (hands under the table) Professor Brown told me you called last night and gave me your message...
He carefully taped the micro-cassette recorder to the bottom of the table and pressed the record button. Neither girl seemed to notice anything.
MARTY ...and if you're still available, I'd like to take you to the dance Saturday night, so I'll pick you up around 8:30, okay?
Eileen smiled and nodded as Marty stood up to leave.
EILEEN Okay. See you later, Marty.
Marty gave her a cheerful wave as he left the malt shop. He pretended to walk away, then ducked behind a nearby building. A few minutes later, Eileen and Madge came out. He waited until they were out of sight before running in the shop and prying the recorder loose.
Later that night, in the Professor's garage, Marty played it back for the both of them. Professor Brown had been welding sheet lead metal into a large Philco Refrigerator. The time machine was now resting in the bed of an Army truck. The Professor had also modified the top of the refrigerator to hold the beam focusing unit so the time beam would shine directly into the fridge.
MARTY (on tape) ...so I'll pick you up around 8:30, okay?
EILEEN (on tape) Okay. See you later, Marty.
He heard the sounds of him walking away and leaving the shop. Almost as soon as the door shut behind him, the girls started talking about him.
EILEEN (on tape) Isn't he a dream? (letting out a giddy sigh)
MADGE (on tape) Boy, I've never seen you fall for anybody like that before!
Eileen sighed again.
EILEEN (on tape) I know. I've never felt like this about anybody before. I really don't understand it, but I just feel like -- like mothering him.
Marty and the Professor exchanged a look.
MADGE (on tape) But what about George? I thought you wanted him to ask you.
EILEEN (on tape) He did ask me....but I turned him down.
MADGE (on tape) Why? (surprised) You always thought George was cute because he was so shy.
EILEEN (on tape) Well, that's what I thought. But he really isn't shy. He's just chicken.
The Professor suddenly grabbed the recorder from Marty's hands and rewound the last sentence.
EILEEN (on tape) He's just chicken.
Eileen said again.
EXT. GEORGE McFLY'S BACKYARD - SATURDAY MORNING
MARTY Come on, George,
Marty said facing off with him in his backyard.
MARTY Don't be such a chicken. Hit me in the stomach. Right here, go ahead.
He held his arms away from his body, making himself an easy target. Behind him, a duffel bag packed with clothes swung from a tree, as a homemade body bag. George didn't make a move.
GEORGE I don't want to hit you in the stomach!
MARTY You're not gonna hurt me. Just hit me in the stomach.
GEORGE Look, Marty, I'm just not a fighter...
Marty rolled his eyes.
MARTY How many times do I have to explain it to you?... We know you're not a fighter. You know it, I know it... but she doesn't know it. That's why we gotta make you look like a fighter, somebody who'll stand up for her, somebody who isn't chicken. And you're not gonna look like a fighter if you can't hit me in the stomach.
GEORGE But I've never picked a fight in my entire life!
MARTY You're not picking a fight, you're coming to her rescue. Maybe we'd better go over the plan again. Where are you gonna be at 8:55?
GEORGE I'm going to be at the dance.
MARTY And where am I gonna be?
GEORGE In the parking lot, with her.
Marty nodded, glad to see that he had been paying attention.
MARTY Okay. So right around 9:00 she's gonna get very angry with me -
GEORGE Why?
MARTY Why what?
GEORGE Why is she gonna get angry with you?
Marty hesitated.
MARTY Well... because... Well, nice girls get angry at guys who...who try to take advantage of 'em.
George looked at him in disbelief.
GEORGE You mean, you're gonna --
MARTY George it's not your concern. Don't worry about it. Just remember that at 9:00, you'll be strolling through the parking lot and you'll see us -- struggling in the car, you'll run over, open the door and say....?
Marty waited for George, but he didn't say anything.
MARTY Your line, George!
GEORGE Oh. Uh... 'Hey, you! Get your damn hands off her!' George paused. You really think I should swear?
MARTY Yes, definitely, god dammit George, swear. Then you hit me in the stomach, I go down for the count, and you and Eileen life happily ever after. Now, hit me in the stomach.
George took a deep breath and tentatively threw his fist into Marty's stomach. Marty shook his head.
GEORGE No, George, put a little emotion into it. A little hostility, a little anger.
He tried it again, this time making faces. The second punch wasn't much better then the one before it.
MARTY Anger, George, Anger.
George hesitated.
GEORGE Maybe if I used my left....
MARTY No, George, just concentrate on the anger. Anger.
The third punch George tried was a little bit better. But still not what Marty was looking for. He sighed.
MARTY Well, I think you're starting to get the hang of it. Just keep practicing. I'll see you tonight. Remember, anger, George. Anger.
He walked away, leaving George alone in the yard. George stared at the body bag, trying to think of something that would make him really angry.
GEORGE Anger...anger.... he muttered.
He hit it, the punches coming harder and harder each time. George smiled, finally getting the hang of it. He pulled his fist back, ready to sock it to the bag. Unfortunately, he misjudged the distance and his fist slammed into the tree trunk.
GEORGE Yeeeowww! God dammit!
With his left fist, George attacked the bag with everything he had -- and knocked it completely off the tree! He stared at it for a long time, shocked.
EXT. BROWN MANSION
It was the night of the dance. The time machine and refrigerator -- now successfully lead-lined -- was completely assembled in the back of the truck. Beside it sat the power converter and a motorcycle with sidecar. As Professor Brown pulled a tap over the back, Marty placed his 1982 clothes in a laundry bag, with some bottles of Coke.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN Everything's ready to go, securing the tarp carefully. (looking up) What about the chemicals for the power converter... whatever they are?
Marty opened the door and stashed the laundry bag at the floor of the passenger seat.
MARTY That's all taken care of.
PROFESSOR EMMETT BROWN Good. Professor Brown tested the tarp, noting in satisfaction that it was secure. I'll pick you up in front of the school at midnight. Don't be late -- we're cutting it close as it is. We've got a long drive ahead of us.
Marty nodded. He twisted his tie around his fingers, almost absentmindedly. He wasn't feeling too hot about the next few hours.
MARTY Look. I'm a little worried about this -- this whole thing with my mother, he admitted to the Professor. I mean, I don't know if I can do it -- I mean, hitting on my own mother, that's pretty heavy.
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