Huh? Oh. Yeah. Tape deck. Couple
of Creedence tapes. And there was
a, uh. . . my briefcase.
In the briefcase?
Papers. Just papers. You know, my
papers. Business papers.
And what do you do, sir?
...Most people, we're working nights,
they offer us coffee.
There is silence. Dude continues to stare at a spot on the
floor. The older cop stares at him.
...Me, I don't drink coffee. But
it's nice when they offer.
...Also, my rug was stolen.
Your rug was in the car.
The Dude taps the floor with his foot.
The Dude stares at the floor.
Snap out of it, son.
The home phone starts ringing--a ring distinct from the
chirp of the portable. The Dude makes no move to answer
it. Finally the rings stop as an answering machine kicks
You find them much? Stolen cars?
Dude's Voice on Machine The Dude's not in. Leave a message
after the beep. It takes a minute.
Sometimes. I wouldn't hold out much
hope for the tape deck though. Or
the Creedence tapes.