screenplay here - Raindance Film Festival

Behind him, the DRY CLEANING RACKS spin around wildly with an
UNEARTHLY CLATTER.
INT: STEAM ROOM - NEW YORK ATHLETIC CLUB -- DAY
Full of steam. CHARLES and OTHO, swathed in towels, sit sweating
on benches.
OTHO
What are you in town for?
CHARLES
I'm arranging the catering
for Saturday night.
OTHO
Oh let me go with you.
CHARLES
We're having a sushi room,
and a tapas room, and your old
friend Alfredo is doing a
chocolate construction.
OTHO
Christ, how much is that
going to cost? Chocolate
constructions don't come
cheap, and once you start
taking sushi across state
lines you're talking real
money.
CHARLES
Otho, what difference does
it make? I'm writing this
whole party off my taxes.
And Delia's writing it off
of hers. Our whole goddamn
lives are deductible. Taxes
are just a game that you play
against the IRS and I always
make sure that I win.
OTHO
I wish somebody'd teach me how to
play.
CHARLES
It's easy. You just learn how to
make them play by your rules. (Beat)
Feels like it's getting hot in here.
Let's go.
CHARLES and OTHO get up and leave the steam room.
At the far end of the room is a sudden, agitated billowing of
steam.
BEETLE JUICE, with STARING YELLOW EYES, steps forward. He is
wearing a perfectly pressed, perfectly dry three-piece pinstriped
suit. He's wearing round wire-frame glasses, and a
narrow-brimmed hat. He is carrying a briefcase, with the
initialled monogram IRS.
He walks out of the steam room.
INT: LOCKER ROOM -- DAY
BEETLE JUICE / IRS, unnoticed, passes the shower room, where
CHARLES and OTHO are slowly turning under adjoining taps.
He passes a row of lockers, attracting the notice of a deeply
tanned YUPPIE jock, who is about to open his locker.
As BEETLE JUICE / IRS leaves, the YUPPIE turns back to his now
open locker, just in time to be CLOBBERED ON THE CHIN by a boxing
glove that shoots out of the locker on a spring. The YUPPIE is
smashed against the opposite wall of lockers.
The other men in the locker room do double-takes.