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.