Graveyard Shift

Give me a hand over here!

Right.

I'll be over there. I can't deal with it now.

Right! Load it up in the back!

Hello, Doris.

Wanna do me a favour? Help me load the next order.

You are no lady, Doris.

Far from it.

Good morning, boys and girls!

Did we all remember to bring our homework today?

We didn't?

We know what happens to little boys and girls who don't do their homework.

Okay, class is over.

Do you hear me? Class is over!

Okay, I'm just gonna have to make another example.

Surprise!

I know you're there, Warwick.

You know something? You just saved me a trip to your office.

I may be desperate for work, but not desperate enough to...

Everything's set down here!

Okay, let her rip.

God damn!

Adiós, motherfuckers!

Excuse us, please.

Thanks.

Wouldn't mind having his boots resting under my bed.

One more pair of boots, you'll have to open a boot shop.

Anyway, he's married.

Daisy May, more coffee.

Daisy May, let's make us a baby doggie-style.

They found him in pieces. The rats were all over him.

It was really unbelievable.

What have you got in the bag, pal?

Not very friendly, is he?

I bet his mummy packs his lunch.

Peanut butter and jelly.

Without the crust.

Looks like a boy scout to me.

Maybe a girl scout.

See you around, girl scout!

You ought to see who they're hiring. She's one cute little chick.

The accidental death at Bachman Textile has opened the restored mill...

to a series of investigations and probable lawsuits.

Jason Reed was working the night shift when the mysterious accidents occurred.

- Good morning, Mr. Warwick! - Hello.

God, this is bad!

Extreme safety hazard.

Exterminator's working round the clock.

He's tired.

- Needs more time. - There's already been one accident.

This place must be cleared before another worker steps foot in this death trap.

Damn!

July fourth holiday.

I'll organise a cleanup.

I'll hold on to this till then.

I'll be back.

To be honest, I don't think you'll find a crew that would work here.

Not down here.

We'll see.

Come shower with me. We can save water.

Get a load of the new guy.

Better get up!

This will work out just fine.

- See you later. - 'Bye.

'Morning.

Good morning.

Do you take coffee, Mr...

Hall. No, thanks. I'll pass today.

Me, too.

Can't be more than an instant enema by now.

You here by car or by thumb?

By Greyhound.

I see you got a real problem staying put.

Lots of movement over the past five years.

Starts down in Florida, comes all the way up the map.

Are you on the run, friend?

I'm here for a fresh start.

College boy.

No, that's not the problem.

With all due respect, what is?

Fair enough.

Putting it plainly, Mr. Hall, you're a drifter.

I get no guarantees with a drifter.

You get no guarantees with any man.

There's only instinct.

You spent some time at Munson Textile.

You ever run the picker?

I know how.

Then you also know it's a one-man operation.

This mill depends on that machine.

And what's left of Gates Falls depends on this mill.

We don't do better than minimum to start.

Four weeks before the union comes knocking at your door.

Are you still interested?

- Sounds fair to start. - All right, then.

That's it, except for the hours.

Because of the heat, we only run that sucker through the night.

11:00 p.m. To 7:00 a.m.

The graveyard shift.

Spread the word, fucker.

Mice.

Damn! That's good shooting.

Tucker Cleveland, Martial Extermination.

John Hall.

Looks like one of your buddies got a little too close to the blower.

I'd love to know how many of them bean town executives...

are wearing one of your rat-lined overcoats.

No, thanks. Gave that up with the wife.

I should miss her as much.

- You work late hours. - I have no choice.

The Yellow Pages are thick with competitors.

I don't mind telling you...

this place is infested.

That may be the understatement of the year.

The schmuck you work for don't wanna hear that.

Afraid of what it's gonna cost the mill.

He thinks a little tracking poison will do the trick.

I've been dealing with these things for more than 20 years...

and we ain't talking about no candy-ass field mice.

These sons of bitches piss on tracking poison...

piss on it to warn their little fucker friends.

Take it from me.

There's only one way to deal with their kind.

On their own terms.

I first met up with them back in Con Tien.

Big as puppies, and they had no fear.

Not of death, nothing, like the Cong.

And I ain't one of them burning-baby, flashback fuck-ups...

you see Bruce Dern playing, so quit your grinning.

Anyways...

Conditions being what they were back then, we had little choice.

We shared the land...

we shared our food with the fuckers...

and they turn around, stabbing us in the back...

by going to work for the VC.

That's right.

Because the VC would reward them with a hot meal.

Do you have any idea what a VC rat eats?

Try raw, American...

"Hold the mayo, thank you."

The Cong...

had a way of serving up a meal...

real nice and fancy.

They would stake one of our boys to the ground...

through his hands, through his feet...

and stake him like Jesus.

And then...

they would make a cut just above the abdomen.

Now, this wasn't a fatal cut.

This was merely an entry wound.

Then, they'd get a rat...

a real hungry rat.

One they hadn't been feeding for about a week.

And they'd put it on the wound...

and they'd stick its nose down inside.

And if the damned thing wasn't starving enough...

they'd cover it with a flaming rice bowl.

And let me tell you...

that grey-black son of a bitch...

would have nowhere else to go but inside.

He'd start clawing his way through...

Looking to put an end to that loud beating sound.

Like a human artichoke.

So warm, so juicy.

Maybe I'm a little prejudiced.

Anybody call a break?

No laughing on company hours.

Looks like you just bought yourself a shift...

scrubbing the latrines.

I should be downstairs humiliating the college boy by now.

Bravo, Ippeston!

Now we can get you that audition on Star Search.

Come here, boy.

We got commitments to our New York sales office due on Wednesday.

Are we on schedule?

- Yes, Mr. Warwick. - Fetch me the work order, boy.

- 'Evening. - 'Evening.

How are you tonight?

We're on time.

In fact, we're slightly ahead.

I'm asking about you, Jane.

How are you?

I'm managing, thanks.

You look tired.

Like you're losing too much of your beauty sleep or something.

The night shift will do that to a girl.

I try to do my job. Do you have a problem with that?

Who said anything about a deal?

I'm talking about a promotion.

A cool office, a desk!

This cleanup ain't gonna be pretty, darling.

I got Stevenson down there now, stringing the lights.

He's pissing and moaning about the heat.

- And it's gonna get hotter. - I can handle it.

It's double pay, so back off, man.

- Why don't you wisen up? - Like Nardello?

I'm gonna see you down in the basement.

There ain't no way they'll get this place settled in a week.

Goddamn rats!

This is a whole bunch of bullshit.