A rugged man stands alongside the empty road, trying to hitch a ride
to Chi-town in sheer desperation to fix himself a gig. With nothing
but his six-string on his back, a small suitcase and a orange cat
under his arm, he waits for serveral hours. Then finally an old Caddy
rolls up next to him;
- Hello.
- Yeah, hey. [GASPS THEN COUGHS]
- Chicago?
The driver nods and the rugged man puts his guitar and suitcase in the
back seat and takes place in the passenger seat but can't help to notice
this, fat jazzy-looking white fellow sleeping his buzz off in the back.
Whom suddenly wakes up slightly surprised and yells;
- What's this!?
- It's my guitar.
- Sure, move in. Don't mind me. Make yourself at home. What are you,
a flamenco dancer? What's your name? Pablo?
- Llewyn Davis.
- I am Roland Turner.
- This is my valet, Johnny Five. [POINTS AT THE DRIVER]
- Johnny Five?
- And that was the last time I was in Murfreesboro.
Gave me to understand I would not be welcome back.
I said, "That's okay, brother. I might have managed
on my own" not to make it back to your little "flyspeck
horse shit town." What the N stand for?
- What?
- What's the N stand for? Lou N. Davis.
- It's Llewyn, L-L-E-W-Y-N. It's Welsh.
- Well, it had to be some stupid fucking name like that.
You don't look Welsh?
- My mother was Italian...
- Here, this would interest you. Johnny and I were in Seattle
playing the High Spot. Remember this, Johnny? And I became
indisposed after eating a toasted cheese sandwich, and found
myself purging from every orifice, one of them like a fire hose.
I said to the manager: "What do you call that thing I just ate?"
He said, "Welsh rarebit." I says, "Okay, does everything from
Wales make you shit yourself" or just this piece of toast?"
He sa.. [ROLAND GETS INTERUPTED BY SEEING THE CAT] Holy Jesus.
What is that thing?
- It's... It's my cat. Well, it's not my cat, it's...
- Grown man with a cat. Is that part of your act?
- No.
- What'd you say you played?
- Folk songs.
- Folk songs? Thought you said you were a musician. Folk singer
with a cat. You queer?
- I... It's not my cat. I just didn't know what to do with it.
- Really? So did you bring your dick along too? -- Johnny, hold up.
There's a service station. Your turn to pay for gas, "Elwin."