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JERRY Yah, well, it's a chunk, but - WADE I thought you were gonna show it to Stan Grossman. WADE Yah, well, seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars is a lot - ha ha ha! This could work out real good for me and Jean and Scotty - WADE Jean and Scotty never have to worry. Twisting perspective shows that it is an aerial shot of a two-lane highway, bordered by snowfields. I will say this though: what Shep told us didn't make a whole lot of sense. Now, her dad's real wealthy - CARL So why don't you just ask him for the money? JERRY Well, that's, that's, I'm not go inta, inta - see, I just need money. Now, I'm in a bit of trouble - CARL What kind of trouble are you in, Jerry? MINNEAPOLIS SUBURBAN HOUSE Jerry enters through the kitchen door, in a parka and a red plaid Elmer Fudd hat. He is carrying a bag of groceries which he deposits on the kitchen counter. The thing is, my wife, she's wealthy - her dad, he's real well off. You're tasking us to perform this mission, but you, you won't, uh, you won't - aw, fuck it, let's take a look at that Ciera. FLARE TO WHITE FADE IN FROM WHITE Slowly the white becomes a barely perceptible image: white particles wave over a white background. As the car roars past, leaving snow swirling in their dirft, the title of the film fades in. HOTEL LOBBY A man in his early forties, balding and starting to paunch, goes to the reception desk. CHAIN RESTAURANT Anderson sits alone at a table finishing dinner. A middle-aged waitress approaches holding a pot of regular coffee in one hand and decaf in the other. A troll, also in neon, holds a champagne glass aloft.
I give you a brand-new vehicle in advance and - CARL I'm not gonna debate you, Jerry. Grimsrud, the dour man who has not yet spoken, now softly puts in with a Swedish-accented voice: GRIMSRUD Or your fucking wife, you know. JERRY Well, it's all just part of this - they don't know I need it, see. FARGO a screenplay by Ethan Coen and Joel Coen The following text fades in over black: This is a true story. The man prints "Jerry Lundega" onto a registration card, then hastily crosses out the last name and starts to print "Anderson." As she types into a computer: CLERK Okay, Mr. The table in front of them is littered with empty long-neck beer bottles. JERRY Yah, Shep Proudfoot said - YOUNGER MAN Shep said you'd be here at .