INT: CHILDRESS, TEXAS: JACK & LUREEN'S HOUSE: THANKSGIVING: DAY: 1977
JACK and LUREEN'S home. Wall-to-wall carperting, fairly luxurious, particularly in comparsion to ENNIS'S life. Many photos of LUREEN winning barrel-racing tropgies. One of JACK, the one taken in the arena the day they met.
JACK, LUREEN, BOBBY, age ten, LUREEN'S long suffering MOTHER and L. D. NEWSUME, Jack's prick of a father-in-law. The table is set for a full Thanksgiving dinner, huge turkey and all the trimmings. As everyone shuffles into their places at the table, WE HEAR the TV in the background. Football game.
JACK is at the head of the table and has just reached for the carving tools, when L. D., older but no kinder, takes them right out of his hands.
L.D. NUSOME
Whoa, now, Rodeo....the stud duck does the carving around here.
JACK, having been trhough this kind of scene many times before, tries nonetheless to be gracious.
JACK
You bet, L.D....just thought I'd save you the trouble.
BOBBY is riveted by the television set.
LUREEN notices.
LUREEN
Bobby, if you don't eat your dinner, I'm gonna have to turn off that television.
BOBBY
Why, Mama? I'm gonna be eatin' this food for the next two weeks.
LUREEN flashes a look at JACK, who then gets up from the table, turns off the television, sits back down.
BOBBY slumps back in his chair, pouts.
JACK
You heard your mama. You can eat your dinner. Then you can watch the game.
L.D. NUSOME sets down the carving tools. Goes to the TV, turns it back on.
LUREEN
Daddy? (pauses) Daddy!
L.D. NUSOME
(picks up the carving tools)
Hell, we don't eat with our eyes.
(looks at Lureen)
You want your son to grow up to be a man, don't you, daughter?
(direct look at Jack)
Boys should watch football.
JACK
(stands up--barely maintain composure)
Not until he finishes the meal his mama spent three hours fixin'.
LUREEN, BOBBY and LUREEN's MOTHER are all startled. JACK has never stood up to L.D. like this before. They watch, silent.
Now L.D. stands again, goes to the TV again, but before he can turn it back on, WE HEAR:
JACK:
Sit down, you old son of a bitch.
L.D. stops dead in his tracks, his hand poised about the TV dial. Doesn't move.
JACK
This is my house! This is my child And you're my guest! So sit the hell down, or I'll knock your ignorant ass into next week....
L.D. is so startled, he automatically obeys.
LUREEN, though trying to keep a bleak demeanor, is secretly pleased.
BOBBY goes bacj to eating his drumstick.
JACK slices the turkey.