"today alone, i got 17 phone calls from my local residents claiming that they have lyme disease." "well, frankly, up until a few years ago, until 1975, the medical community had no idea what lyme disease even was." "all we knew was that it caused psychiatric disturbances and severe neurological disorders." "even so, it seems that over the last four years, this disease has become no less debilitating, especially here in the tri-state suburban area." "i assure you that the medical community is very close to developing a treatment for lyme disease because we now know the source." "the tick, right?" "well, technically, the infection stems from the blood of the deer." "the tick is just the transmitter." "well, in any case, what precautions should people be taking?" "[sighs] okay, let's have 'em." "give me liberty or give me death." "hey, it's not funny." "the last thing we need is for him to get sick." "he shouldn't even be next door in all those weeds without the tape." "you need a haircut." "oh, sorry, mick, all gone." "ticks, i can handle." "but you, that's a different story." "[giggles] * you * * you with a tick in your hair * i'll be outside." "hey, don't go far." "you're paranoid." "i'm sorry, mick." "i just--you know, i have this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach." "it's a tradition." "besides, you know i haven't been able to spend a lot of time with him lately." "yeah, well, he's not the only one." "[whispering] we don't actually kill anything." "i even started using blanks like you asked me to." "listen, mick, it's just dangerous now, okay?" "look at charlie." "charlie?" "[scoffs] i wouldn't be surprised if we found out this whole thing was psychosomatic." "okay, let's just forget about the whole thing." "but i'm not gonna be the one that lets him down." "[rocks crunching]" "what are you doing?" "still with that stupid quarter trick?" "no." "you know, they say no matter where you are on long island, you can always hear the train." "can't get far enough away." "yeah, i heard that." "no, you didn't." "i just told you." "[train rumbling] [train horn blowing]" "[plucked string music]" "* *" "you." "fucking guy." "so you--what are you doing f-friday, satur-- what are you-- i'm busy friday." "you know you want this." "don't lie." "don't lie to me." "[sighs] you're something special." "yeah, you are." "scott, breakfast." "uh, coming." "[leaves crunching]" "[gun clicks] [gunshot] hey, hold on." "who's there?" "i'm coming." "don't shoot." "oh, wow." "nice shot, mr. bragg." "i told you not to come around here." "that could have been your head." "i thought you were the best shot in the union." "doesn't matter." "accidents happen." "don't you understand that?" "here." "yeah, that's a good shot." "yeah, i couldn't go this year on the hunting trip, but, uh, how'd you do?" "i don't know." "my mom wouldn't let us go." "well, that's a fucking shame." "it was abundant, i heard." "deer as far as you could see." "mm-hmm." "yeah?" "yeah, i still have quite a bit left over from two years ago, you know?" "and i cured it myself." "oh, really?" "mm-hmm." "you want to-- you want to see it?" "uh, see what?" "there it is." "[chuckles] you got your shank, your hocks, shoulder." "those are ribs, really good ribs." "and that right there, that's the ass." "the what?" "the ass." "do you really eat that?" "well, yeah." "that's the best part." "you like ass?" "yes, oh, yeah." "here." "tell you what." "there you go." "yeah, i just don't want it to go bad in the locker." "you're turning down a piece of ass?" "well, i mean, i-- i share a locker with someone, and i don't--i don't know if they'd want a piece of ass in the locker, you know?" "[laughs] hey, scotty." "hi." "you taking this to school with you today?" "oh, oh, yeah, i-- yeah, why don't you go find adrianna?" "[snickers] nice suit." "yeah, my mom made me wear it." "your mom still makes you wear things?" "[chuckles] i wouldn't go broadcasting that if i were you." "the sweater... looks nice." "this suit, though, is kind of-- just doesn't fit me the way-- you know what?" "i'm gonna be late." "let's talk about it in the car, okay?" "well, no, i called a cab." "it's all right." "why, especially now, are we wasting money on cabs when i have a flexible enough job to drive you to the station and pick you up?" "because i don't want to put you out, all right?" "i have all these interviews all over the city." "every day, you have an interview." "melissa, listen." "this thing--this thing, it's kicked my ass." "you know that." "something good is gonna happen." "i promise." "really." "okay." "you look nice." "don't forget to take your pills." "you have a nice day." "[door clicks shut] [high-pitched droning]" "[car engine revs]" "[furnace droning] [exhales] [bell rings] ever since he got sick, he spends more time with the stupid dead deer than he does with us." "it's humiliating." "well, maybe because he doesn't have a job or whatever, it's--you know, it's his way of making up for it." "you know, like, he, uh-- he hunts for food or whatever." "that's a very interesting observation and all, but no." "i don't think so." "i mean, it's not like you guys are the munsters or anything." "i, uh--i got to go." "i'll see you later." "[plucked string music]" "* *" "it's the american dream, mr. patel, right here on long island." "uh, in all honesty, mr. patel, we've had a lot of interest, but as they say, no cigar." "i told your wife, if you're the first house built, you have your pick of exposures." "the sun does rise in the east, yes." "where does it rise in india, mr. patel?" "[slams phone] what's the matter?" "it's--it's just been a rough couple weeks." "[exhales nervously] you don't want to hear my sob story." "well--well, look, we're friends first, right?" "i'm sorry." "i'm just a little emotional." "i understand." "charlie's... charlie is not the guy that i married." "well, we all change somewhat, no?" "yeah, i know, but, god, why me?" "i mean, a bus, a robbery, an accident." "but lyme disease?" "hey, look, you're not the one who has lyme disease, right?" "[flashbulb clicking] smile." "okay." "next." "enjoy yourself now, dick weed." "[makes farting noise] fartlett." "okay, look at the birdie." "look at me." "i will fucking destroy you there, blue eyes." "today i'm gonna shove a telephone pole so far up your bung-- come on." "give me a smile." "[cackles] [makes farting noise] i think blaze salado is into me." "whatever." "well, what do you think i should do?" "i mean, he's so mint." "but i don't know." "his real name isn't blaze." "it's something really dorky like barry." "[makes farting noise] [laughs] hey, fartlett." "we need to talk." "we do?" "yeah." "unless you're too scared." "no, i'm not scared." "get over here, you little dick." "[laughs] nice suit, fartlett." "what do you want?" "i see your nigger-rich daddy driving all over town in his porsche, and i want some money for my own, okay?" "[spits] todd, what the fuck?" "let him go." "you're such an animal." "$20 every friday." "oh, you're a motherfucker." "get the fuck over here." "get the fuck over here." "fuck over here." "add $20, ass wipe." "asshole loser." "slutty whore." "scott, are-- are you okay?" "do you want me to call your mom or something?" "no, i'm fine." "well, how are you gonna get home?" "jesus, just get the fuck out of here." "well, i'm just saying i can call your mom if you want." "she can bring you an ice pack or some yoo-hoo or something." "just--what the fuck is wrong with you?" "just go." "fine." "[sobs] i missed the fricking bus." "this is the best birthday present i could possibly get." "but in your letter, you said that you wouldn't be here till next week." "i mean, i've got it-- look, right here." "it's okay." "ma, i know. i know." "i got out a week early." "i just forgot to call is all, okay?" "okay, you know, i just-- i--you know me." "i like to be prepared." "you know, i wouldn't have made that." "[sighs] oh, honey, you look so thin, you know, like you got rickets in your bones." "i mean, what do they feed you there?" "um, pretty much this kind of stuff." "oh, god almighty." "i'm sorry." "no, it's great. i love it." "it's great. thank you." "[phone rings] mm, before i left, my commanding officer told me i might be activated because of the falklands, so basically i'm here till told otherwise." "ooh, the balkan islands." "i saw that on tv." "balkan, falkland." "hello?" "hi, honey. hi." "guess who." "yeah, where is the little shit?" "r2-d2, is that really you?" "jim." "[laughs] hey, jim." "hey." "oh, you got big." "no, no, no, okay, you know, i mean, uh, mature, like, uh-- like a little lady." "yeah, you look good too." "ah, yes, yeah, thank you." "uh, basic training is a real bitch, but, you know, it really whips you into shape." "i thought you were coming next week." "what?" "like, 1,000 sit-ups a day." "c.o.'s a real hard-ass." "oh, really?" "wow." "i take your compliment well." "hmm?" "i thought you were coming next week." "yeah, well, i'm early." "what's this?" "what are you gonna do?" "stay here." "* oh, lord, i'm walking down the line * * walking down the line * [doorbell rings] you want to get the fuck out here?" "what the fuck?" "fucking-- what the fuck?" "get off me." "get the fuck off me." "[grunting and shouting] [dull thuds]" "never again." "do you understand me?" "i'll fucking kill you!" "jimmy, stop." "you're fucking dead!" "all right, enough, jimmy." "oh." "shit." "[sobbing softly]" "[tires screech] [rock music playing on radio]" "* * [tires squealing] so you learned all that in the army?" "to fight?" "no, they teach you how to kill there." "with your hands?" "hands, you know, guns, knives, grenades, whatever." "so did you have to register them as lethal weapons?" "what, my hands?" "i think the army does that for you." "fucking "a," that's cool, jim." "so you had to control yourself, like, your instincts." "that is awesome." "oh, but about your eye... oh, yeah, no, i'll tell mom i was playing dodgeball or something." "good man." "does it hurt?" "oh!" "[laughs] i'm sorry about that." "dick." "oh!" "[laughs]" "you all right?" "fucking asshole." "so lucky you got jimmy today, 'cause if that shit was me... call me fartlett?" "yeah, that's cool." "call me fartlett. whatever." "you know, whatever." "but you know what they say." "you hit a guy like this, boom, dead." "wah-wah-wah." "bah." "molly molloy, born in dubuque, iowa." "has a dog named stella and feeds it red meat only." "adrianna bragg, 15, now in the 11th grade, syosset high, no dog." "scotty, it's my birthday." "come down and eat already." "happy birthday." "oh, my god." "i'll bet i make the cover of architectural digest." "and it's yours?" "no, i bought it for the rag heads up the block that just hit the lotto." "yes, it's mine." "it's ours." "here, let me show you." "this is gonna be the laundry room right here." "this is the kitchen." "i put in one of those center islands that we talked about." "you're gonna love it." "it's beautiful." "scott, this is gonna be your room." "wow, looks like the millennium falcon." "yeah, mick, it's, uh-- it's very modern." "yeah, it's modern." "it's ultramodern." "i used the best architect on the island." "really?" "is there still time to-- i don't know-- maybe, uh, take the edge off somehow?" "take the edge off?" "you're kidding, right?" "no." "you meant millennium falcon in a good way?" "yeah, definitely." "check this out." "this is where the sunroom is gonna be with the eastern exposure." "get that morning light that we talked about--beautiful." "the windows are double-paned, plate glass, slightly tinted." "they cost a fortune, but they are-- smooch-- beautiful." "yeah, but wouldn't it just be cheaper if we built a sunroom on our house?" "we don't have the acreage on our property." "we could build a tennis court here." "we don't have any tennis players in our family." "[train horn blows] maybe you could learn." "we could put a tennis court in now if i wanted to learn, mickey." "well, yeah, we could put in an aboveground pool too." "but we might as well be back in queens." "it wouldn't be such a bad thing, would it?" "to be back in queens?" "yeah." "come on, mom. don't argue." "it's your birthday." "we'll be inside." "[sighs] you could have at least warned me." "i mean, a decision like this you make without asking me, moving our family?" "it's next door." "we're not moving." "we're upgrading, you know?" "in with the new." "out with the old." "[whispering] fucker." "what is it with queens?" "she's like dorothy in the wizard of oz." "it's different there." "she had her neighbors around to complain to." "takes her mind off the problems." "what problems?" "she doesn't have any problems." "you sound like dad." "i do?" "they don't even fuck anymore." "what?" "how the fuck do you know that?" "you know the rubbers under dad's bed we used to use as water balloons?" "ew, yeah." "they haven't been there in over a year." "okay, well, first of all, that's sick to even think about, and second, she's coming, so shut the fuck up." "[chuckles quietly]" "[serene acoustic music]" "* *" "found them in my window well." "what if they have parents who will be worried if they don't come home?" "yeah, if frogs worry, i guess." "what do you think would happen if i didn't come home?" "they'd look for you." "who?" "i don't know." "maybe they'd send blaze salad fuck." "[chuckles] i'm kidding." "really, i'm--you know, i'm sorry he never asked you out." "it was weird seeing you get your ass kicked." "well, he's bigger than me." "wasn't a fair fight." "yeah, but--i don't know-- i felt like you were, like, my, uh-- my little brother or something." "really?" "your brother?" "yeah." "yeah, i better go." "what?" "no, come on." "i'm--i'm kidding." "i was joking." "i didn't--i didn't mean it in a bad way." "no, i was-- i was just kidding." "i'm not mad." "god, you're being such a... no, you're supposed to smother it with something." "then you can pull it out." "shut up." "can you just shut up and let me do this?" "[slow heartbeat] [heartbeat quickens]" "[exhales heavily] what is wrong with you?" "[foot stomps]" "is it a bad one, dad?" "yeah." "what do you mean, a bad one?" "deer tick." "oh, my god." "oh, my god." "yeah." "well, where did it happen, outside or in the house or-- i don't know." "it's filled with blood." "oh, my god." "scotty, i'm so-- how are you feeling?" "you feeling okay?" "i'm so sorry." "yeah, i'm fine." "he'll probably have to get a-- what?" "blood transfusion." "[laughs] i'm kidding." "it's not a bad one." "[laughs] that's not funny." "that's not funny." "whoo." "charlie, why don't you take him home, okay?" "stop scratching." "let me see." "it's not a bad one." "all right?" "would you take him home?" "come on." "come on. let's go." "lighten up." "look at it through here." "lovely." "[groans] [giggles] okay, okay, don't-- it's not funny." "i'm just kidding." "you're hurting my arms." "jesus." "cotton bowl, a young joe montana, absolutely unbelievable." "he fell ill... all right." "[sighs] what?" "what is it?" "what does it feel like?" "what does this feel-- this feels like just a perpetual acid trip is what this feels like." "[laughs] what are you laughing at?" "i'm kidding." "you don't know what an acid trip is." "[snickers] hey, do you know what an acid trip is?" "no, i have no fucking idea." "good." "good." "no, it changes." "i mean, sometimes, it feels like, um, the flu, and other times, it's worse, like, um, you know, my head's on fire kind of." "yeah." "hey, uh, you probably don't want to tell your mom about the tick." "[chuckles] right?" "no tick?" "right, no tick." "no tick?" "no--no tick." "brenda." "hi." "oh, melissa, hi." "hi." "how are you?" "how's your new house?" "oh--oh, it's-- it's coming quickly." "yeah, i'm very happy with it." "so i'm seeing you today, right?" "oh, why would you be?" "well, mickey said that the boys were coming out to the site." "i just--well, i figured you were coming along with them." "right." "yeah, um, god, well, it's thanksgiving, though." "aren't--are you working today?" "indians, you know." "they have different holidays than us." "hey, how's scott doing?" "i'm sorry. i was-- i was gonna call you." "i'm sorry." "what do you mean?" "he didn't tell you about the tick?" "stop picking." "mom, this is ridiculous." "do you have any idea how sick you could have gotten?" "do you?" "i just look like a total dingus." "did he call?" "did who call?" "dad." "[train horn blows] no." "are you mad?" "just don't start lying to me scott, okay?" "no, i didn't lie." "you didn't ask me anything." "you should have told me, scotty." "just tell me next time, okay?" "that's it." "maybe you should have had a girl." "they tell their mothers everything." "well, maybe you should have asked god for a mother who doesn't care about her children." "[phone ringing] look, just don't argue with me right now, okay?" "i'm sorry." "i'm very tired." "hello." "yeah, they're both here." "jimmy's asleep." "look, was there any reason i wasn't informed of this little field trip?" "[laughs] yeah, um, you know what?" "i don't want to hear it, uh, and i don't have time anyway." "dinner's at 4:00 sharp." "go wake your brother." "the idea is to presell off the model, as many as i can, then borrow from the bank to build." "this is, uh, scott street, and this is james." "nobody calls me james anymore." "had i known, jim, i would have named you, you know, boardwalk, park place, lexington, madison." "why don't we just move here?" "well, this is affordable housing for people making $20,000, $30,000 a year." "that's not us anymore." "well, how much do you make?" "that's a bad habit, scott, asking people how much money they make." "your dad, it's okay." "but by this time next year, we will officially be millionaires." "and you can quit that army shit, make some real dough, right?" "* da da-da da-da da-da da-da da-da da-da da-dah * * da da-da da-da da-da da-da da-da da-da da-dah *" "what problems do they have?" "i'll tell you when you're of age, all right?" "trust me." "oh, shit." "oh, this is embarrassing." "hi, guys." "man." "[music playing loudly] [smoke alarm beeping] oh, jeez." "oh." "oh, my god." "oh." "ah." "gosh." "oh." "i'm sorry. i must have fallen asleep up there." "how is it?" "is it-- uh, sad to say, this bird has seen better days." "ow." "oh, i... where's your father?" "oh, god, what a waste." "ah, well, at least we have each other, right?" "yeah?" "[laughs] oh, i'm sorry." "dad's site is awesome." "how nice." "yeah, it's--it's huge, like, the size of six football fields tied together." "wow." "yeah, it's supposed to be like a modern-day levittown." "you should go out there." "really, it's amazing." "dad said by this time next year, we'll be millionaires." "more money, more problems." "jimmy, do you remember how we used to lay out on our roof in queens, remember?" "oh, yeah, yeah, and what's-his-name, the old nut next door-- what's his name?" "oh, gee, um, veltry." "veltry, right." "oh, yeah, he'd just sit in his window for hours, lurking like-- yeah, exactly, like that, with that face." "[laughs] did you burn any turkeys back then, dorothy?" "dorothy?" "you--you said dorothy, right?" "what did you mean by that?" "because all you have to do is click your heels together, and you're back in queens." "[inhales sharply] ah." "on that note." "[laughs] anybody up for a hot game of monopoly?" "[laughing] yeah." "good, 'cause i am." "[laughs]" "shit. shit." "i'm--god damn it, i'm-- all right." "wow." "sometimes i just feel so stupid, you know?" "it's okay, mom." "[atmospheric xylophone music]" "* * hi, dad." "hey." "what do you think?" "[dog barking] um... nice shoes." "could you-- could you zip this up for me?" "uh, sure." "sweetie, don't you think you're gonna be kind of cold with--with all the back exposed like that?" "dad, dad, come on." "it's fine." "i have a jacket." "and it's a church party." "the--the strap thing, the pink-- yes." "you can see it." "dad, since when did you become such a square?" "but do you know that you can see it?" "yeah, yeah, it's-- it's part of the dress." "that's what they're-- that's the look?" "that's what the girls are wearing these days." "okay." "all right." "are you sure you're not gonna come to the church party?" "no, i have a lot of, uh, irons in the fire." "[chuckles] are you sure?" "yeah, i'm sure." "um, have a great time, okay?" "i will. love you. bye." "all right, sweetie." "i love you." "lights look great." "yeah, they're gonna be beautiful all over the house." "[exhales sharply] our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name." "thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is done in heaven." "and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, and deliver us, lord, from all evil, and grant us peace this day." "peace be with you." "all: and also with you." "and now let's offer one another a gesture of peace today." "peace be with you." "and also with you." "peace be with you, honey." "[shuddering exhaling] [slow music]" "* * * thy shall never love another * thy shall never love another." "* and stand by me all the while * and stand by me all the while." "* take happiness * * with the heartaches * take happiness with the heartaches." "what's up, mr. saturday night fever?" "merry christmas." "do you like?" "not bad." "not bad?" "come on." "better than not bad." "yeah, i guess." "turn around." "let me see." "this is kind of beat, huh?" "it's a church." "sneak a bottle of red and meet me in the confessionals." "thou should always have faith in me." "* in everything i say and do * in everything i say and do." "bless me, father, for i have blah, blah, blah." "did you bring the wine?" "[scoffs] i said red, not white." "well, couldn't exactly be choosy." "[laughs] you never drank, have you?" "oh, well, yeah." "we're in a confessional, scott." "you can't just blatantly lie." "you have to tell me the truth, no matter what i ask you." "[snickers] ask me something." "um, have you ever thought of me as more than just, like, a brother?" "okay, enough truth." "let's play dare." "it'll be more fun." "dare isn't part of a confession." "well, neither is drinking." "fine, i'll dare you something first." "i dare you... i dare you to close your eyes." "okay, open." "what do you think?" "nice." "i said "look," perv." "i hate to ask, mickey, and you know how charlie is about favors, but i just can't live with it." "oh, no, no, no, no, no." "i just wish you'd said something sooner." "i'll get a couple of guys over here right away." "oh, you don't need to do that." "i mean, well, you could take it out of my commissions." "oh, are you kidding me?" "please." "you deserve it." "just tell charlie it's a bonus." "i can give you a bonus, right?" "[heavy breathing]" "don't worry." "charlie's in the city late tonight." "this here is wrong." "i know." "[heavy breathing and moaning]" "mickey." "oh, mickey." "mom?" "dad?" "okay, we're cool." "you have to inhale like, uh-- like your mom just caught you doing something really bad." "watch, like this." "[inhales sharply] mommy's coming." "[inhales wildly] mommy's coming." "[coughing] [laughing] holy shit." "you're cute." "i am?" "i mean, i know." "if you were, like, three years older, we could go out." "'cause i only go out with older boys." "they're--they're more mature." "some of them even have mustaches." "shit." "oh, you like mustaches?" "you got a long way to go." "well, i mean, my dad doesn't really have one." "he's the one i take after." "your dad doesn't need one to attract the ladies." "what do you mean?" "let me put it this way." "i wouldn't be so hip to taking after him so much if i were you." "that's all." "well, why the fuck not?" "i'm just saying, like-- okay, the last person i want to end up like is my mother." "i mean, the both of them are just so--i don't know-- phony or something." "phony?" "have you been reading that book about the kid who runs away from private school?" "actually, yeah." "yeah, yeah, i have." "well, you know, it turns out the only one who's phony is... [stammers] are you stoned?" "you look stoned." "no." "are you feeling it?" "you make me... [laughs] turns out that the only one who's phon--who's phony is, you know, fucking what's-his-name." "uh, the--the-- the kid who--who-- who tells the story." "[laughs] fucking caulfield." "so?" "so?" "anyways, as i was saying, older boys... they can take a hint." "you know, they don't have to do much guessing." "like, for example, when a girl's wearing mistletoe in her hair, pretty much means one thing." "oh, wow, yeah." "that's beautiful." "[clears throat] i think mommy's really coming." "[laughs] hey." "what happened?" "i thought you guys were going to the church party." "yeah, yeah, it was-- it was beat." "what's that smell?" "is--is that-- oh, yeah, i was just showing her this trick." "scotty, don't do that." "you're gonna burn down the house." "[coughing] that's your dad." "my dad's here?" "yeah, yeah, he's helping, um-- he's gonna help us with the sunroom." "hey." "how you guys doing?" "you staying out of trouble?" "yeah, how--how are you, mr. bartlett?" "i'm pretty good." "nice shirt there, big guy." "yeah." "[snickers] we should, um, get back." "uh, yeah, to the, uh-- to the--to the site." "we got some late, uh, customers." "so, uh, i'll see you back at the house." "be good." "bye." "holy shit." "do you think he knew?" "scott, um... your dad's fucking my mom." "i mean, come on, fixing the sunroom in the basement?" "he is not." "is too." "oh, man." "i feel-- i feel... [serene organ music]" "* * * the bells of st. mary's * * ah, hear they are calling *" "[exhales heavily] oh." "holy shit." "[hammer banging]" "oh, holy fucking shit." "seized the american embassy in tehran." "they took many hostages." "you have a rough night last night, kiddo?" "uh, are you sure you want to go to school?" "you feel okay?" "uh-huh." "well, come here and eat something." "oh, no, i'm fine." "the bus. i'm late." "you should put something in your stomach." "i'll take you." "come on. sit down." "you know, that's okay." "i'm okay. everything's great." "i'll see you guys later." "hold on." "your brother's leaving on tuesday--tuesday now." "come on, guys." "cheer up." "oh, don't mind us." "go--yeah, have a good time." "go ahead." "but what could be better than hanging here with doom and gloom?" "look, just promise me you won't be a hero." "no, remember, you can always hide out somewhere safe and just wait till it's over." "ma, it's not world war ii." "yeah, it's the falkland islands." "probably won't even be a single shot fired." "but if there is, jimmy's on the front line, first to go in." "dick!" "no, ma, that's bull-- come on, scotty." "that's bullshit." "no, is-- is he really joking?" "he just told me." "he just told me about the big scary spanish guys." "fuckhead." "so full of shit." "mom, they just activated me because-- they're mobilizing the troops, i mean, have them sitting on aircraft carriers, smoking cigarettes, probably." "yeah, probably." "yeah?" "hopefully." "[laughs sarcastically] [imitating laughter] some turnout, huh?" "yeah." "mr. popular all of a sudden." "mm-hmm." "yeah, you should slow down." "you should speed up." "you want to dance with me?" "come on." "live a little." "okay." "come on." "* when you wear your bell-bottom pants * * i just stand there in a trance * * huh, i can't move * * your inner grove *" "no, hey, no, shit bag." "too young for that." "tastes like piss anyway." "it is piss." "shut up, dick." "wow." "the hero, huh?" "ah, not quite yet." "adrianna, will you go get me my drink?" "sure." "are you really that sick, bringing her here?" "she's my mom, scott." "i can't not let her do things." "a long island iced tea, please." "don't you mean an iced tea without the long island part?" "it's for my mom." "can i dance with you guys?" "yeah." "[humming rhythmically]" "[boston's more than a feeling playing]" "* * * it's more than a feeling * * more than a feeling * * when i hear that old song they used to play * * more than a feeling * * and i begin dreaming * * more than a feeling *" "* till i see marianne walk away * kids, uh, i'm gonna call it quits." "oh." "okay?" "you sure?" "yeah, i'm just having-- you okay?" "yeah, no, i'm-- i'm a little tired." "yeah?" "so i--i'll see you later before you go, right?" "yeah, yeah, yeah." "okay, honey." "you gonna take scotty home?" "yeah, of course, of course." "okay." "bye, mom." "love you guys." "[clears throat]" "hey, dad." "dad, think i can, uh, talk to you for a second?" "what?" "think i can talk to you for a second?" "[laughs] yeah, go ahead." "all right, here, come here." "come here, over here." "hey, we're dancing." "i know, but just want to talk to him for a second, okay?" "all right." "just for a second." "yeah, just a second." "if i disappointed you somehow, i'm sorry." "but what am i gonna do about it?" "you've got your mother's hard-to-please gene." "i'm just saying, whatever it is you're doing, just don't flaunt it around so much." "and what is it i'm doing, hmm?" "you know." "tell me." "no, no, i want you to tell me." "hmm?" "i'm asking you a question, soldier. answer me." "huh?" "what, you can't take a little love tap now and then?" "tell me. come on." "you better learn how to defend yourself." "you're going over there to fight." "you let those fucking spics push you around like that?" "come on." "come on." "tough guy, come on." "yeah." "yeah." "that's what i'm talking about." "yeah, come on, jimbo." "you've been waiting a long time for this." "come on." "come on." "give it to me." "come on." "give it to me. give it to me." "give it to me!" "come on!" "give it to me!" "come on. come on." "fuck." "fuck!" "whatever it is you're doing, just watch it." "fucking scott, dad." "what did i tell you about this world, hmm?" "you're either chasing something, or you're running away from something." "me, i chase." "you?" "but maybe i'm wrong about you." "maybe a little piece of me rubbed off on you, huh?" "just a little piece." "don't get shot to pieces over there." "i'm never gonna speak to you again." "no, you said you were leaving tomorrow." "you told mom you'd see her before." "i heard you." "do you have to leave now?" "i'm in the fucking service, scott." "i have to go and fight." "when do you ship out?" "maybe--maybe i can come and visit." "i don't know. i'll probably go out first, right away." "that's cool." "can you bring me back a rifle or a grenade or something?" "[sighs exasperatedly] i don't carry a rifle." "what do you mean?" "what do you have, an uzi?" "oh, fuck." "i'm a communications specialist." "communications what?" "you know radar in m*a*s*h?" "that's me." "no, you said-- no, i didn't say anything." "you assumed, which is obviously something you shouldn't be doing so much of." "are you kidding me?" "you're like radar?" "i'm not like fucking radar, okay?" "i just do what he does on the show." "you think i like being stuck in uniform in fucking middle of nowhere, taking orders form a bunch of assholes with guns?" "so quit." "and what?" "what, come home?" "everything's gonna be okay?" "dad's been doing this as long as i can remember." "and as long as she fucking takes this, it's gonna go on and on." "you're gonna rot your fucking stomach out like i did." "i feel like i'm in the twilight zone." "yeah, well, welcome to our wonderful little family and our perfect little suburban life." "you know what?" "dad's right about one thing." "you should go to college in another state way across the fucking country." "yeah, maybe i'll just give up and become pussy like radar." "i really hope you don't." "[plucked string music]" "* *" "[clears throat] who's there?" "uh, just me." "what's with the shifty eyes?" "it makes you look like you're... ashamed of something." "yeah." "uh, no." "i was just coming to see if she was around so we could ride the bus." "she got a ride." "from who?" "listen, at her age, things change every day, okay, at any age." "that's one thing you can be sure of in life." "things change." "scott, listen." "tomorrow she might be right back on the bus with you." "who knows?" "okay?" "[school bell ringing] * baby, when i think about you * * i think about love * * darling, i don't want to live without you * * and your love * * and if i had... *" "is that a tear in your eye?" "what are you talking about?" "writing is on the wall, man." "she's totally slutting it out with blaze." "so?" "what's it to me?" "i thought you were, like, totally fucking in love with her since you were eight." "well, don't you know things change in life, idiot?" "asshole." "dick." "sorry." "i don't know, man." "maybe when i was a kid, but now it's just-- it was the only way i could've, you know... holy shit, you mean you-- all right, keep it down, dick weed." "you can't leave me hanging out to dry." "you've got to tell me everything." "* feel like making love * * to you *" "hope we have nice weather for your confirmation." "what's wrong, scotty?" "i'm sorry." "why are you sorry?" "'cause i thought you were crazy." "here, try these." "go ahead." "tell me why you thought i was crazy." "because, mom, you're never happy." "you hate dad." "and now i do too." "scotty, don't tell me how i feel." "and why are you even worrying yourself with, uh, my problems with your father?" "well, they're kind of my problems too when he's fucking mrs. bragg." "scott, god damn it." "how dare you speak to me like that?" "[laser zapping] some friend you are, lando." "blaze, where'd you come up with that?" "[laser zapping] just watch it, man." "[glass clinks]" "[laser zaps] fucking idiot." "you're such a fucking liar." "you so lied your wimpy little baby brat ass off." "do you have nothing to say?" "what did you hear?" "i heard that you fingered me and it was like the inside of a jelly doughnut." "i mean, ew, scott, that is so disgusting." "shit." "i mean, what the fuck did i ever do to you?" "i don't know." "you treat me different." "maybe it's because i, like, liked you." "idiot." "look, half the guys in my grade lie about this sort of thing all the time, all right?" "i'll just say it was made up." "you know how it is." "i'm already getting weird phone calls." "you know, that's the third-- god, you are such an asshole." "do you think i'm a slut?" "no." "well, i'm not, okay?" "i'm not like my mother." "i-i know that." "oh, so you think my mom's a slut?" "okay, i didn't say that." "you said you think-- well, she is, okay?" "she's a big, fat, slutty whore." "i can't even look at her." "maybe they'll, like, die together in a car accident or something." "[electricity buzzing] you know this is the third rail, right?" "really?" "is that all you have to say?" "you know, they say no matter where you are on long island, you can always hear the train." "can't get far enough away." "what are you, walt whitman now?" "and don't follow me." "your father called." "yeah?" "yeah, he, uh-- he said he got tickets to the game tonight at the coliseum." "he wants you to be ready to leave by 6:00." "i don't want to go." "what do you mean, he doesn't want to go to the game?" "he loves the islanders." "where is he?" "is he in his room?" "is he sick?" "he knows." "he knows what?" "he knows that you're a motherfucker, literally." "what kind of shit is that to say?" "you do fuck mothers, don't you?" "man, you can take the girl out of queens, am i right?" "yeah, and what are you, king farouk all of a sudden now you got a few dollars in your pocket?" "[exhales heavily] i can't do this anymore, mick." "you can't do what?" "i don't love you anymore." "i cannot stand the sight of your face." "i do not want to be in the same room with you." "i-i find you so ugly." "and i can't even stand the way you fucking smell, the way you brush your teeth, the way you eat your fucking food." "oh, you got the fucking shit-eating grin on your face all the time." "you fucking drive me up the fucking wall." "and i can't live with myself if i have to spend another night in bed with you." "you make me sick to my stomach." "hey, fuck this garbage!" "i'm gonna go get scott, and i'm taking him to the game." "[plate shatters] god damn it, mickey." "i will not be humiliated in front of my children anymore." "humiliated?" "what the fuck are you talking about?" "i break my ass for this family!" "oh, bullshit." "and you spend more time with your goddamn fig tree-- my mother got me that fig tree." "she told me not to marry irish." "please." "jesus christ." "and if you want to bring our wedding day into this, that's an even bigger issue." "fuck this nonsense!" "i'm gonna go get scott." "i'm going to the game." "christ, look, i made my decision." "what, you're telling me now that you weren't happy on your wedding day?" "telling me that you felt trapped minutes before the ceremony didn't exactly bring a fucking smile to my face." "i was talking about the tux." "so this is all just some big misunderstanding?" "maybe, maybe." "oh, okay." "you know what?" "maybe?" "well, no more." "i made my decision." "i want you out of this fucking house." "do you know why i go with other women?" "oh, christ." "do you know why i go with other women?" "because they don't tell me that i make them sick to their stomach!" "i don't care." "that's why i do that." "shut the fuck up." "fuck you." "fuck you." "i'm tired of you rubbing my face in this shit." "you get the fuck out of this house." "oh, come on, please." "and go where?" "where do you think i'm gonna go?" "i'm not gonna get-- get out of my house." "what are you doing?" "what are you, fucking crazy?" "this is my house." "this is my house." "yeah, yeah, i'm crazy." "i am crazy." "i'm fucking insane right now." "get out of my house." "[door clicks open shut]" "[car door clicks open and shut] [engine turns over] [inhales sharply]" "[door clicks open] [elton john's daniel playing]" "* * see the guy at the end of the bar?" "tell him to come down here." "mick." "how the fuck are you?" "yeah?" "yeah, melissa told me you sold the last of the plots." "congratulations." "yeah, i couldn't have done it without her." "oh, absolutely." "i tell myself that every day." "she's a real gem, a pro." "well, sit down." "let's catch up, have a little drink." "buy you a drink." "one drink?" "yeah." "i got time for a quick drink." "i got a lot of shit going on, boy." "you sure do." "you sure do, mick." "let me see if i-- that's all right." "i'll remember." "let me--my friend, uh-- a, uh-- uh, uh, a gimlet, neat." "you got a sharp memory." "so she tells me that the, uh, penicillin, is it, uh, working for you?" "mm." "oh, god, it--no, it's, uh-- who the fuck knows?" "i mean, one day, the doctor tells me it's ms, right?" "and then the next day, he tells me it's... [silently]" "what?" "[silently] [mumbles unintelligibly]" "syphilis?" "yeah." "yes, fucking syphilis." "what amazes me, mick, is that this tiny little bug no bigger than a pimple on your ass can change your life." "yeah, that's a real shame." "hey, mick... you ever think about how it could have been you?" "you were sitting right next to me on that hunting trip, you remember?" "yeah, you remember?" "do you have, uh, syphilis?" "[inhales deeply]" "[exhales deeply] well, you know, sometimes... i wish it was syphilis." "[laughs] [laughs] come on." "yeah." "come on." "yeah." "yeah." "come on." "uh, thanks for the drink." "i got to go." "i'll catch you." "mm-hmm." "thanks again." "hey, mick, mick!" "you want to hear this shit?" "do you want to hear it, yes, no, maybe?" "well, i'll tell you anyway." "come on." "melissa." "melissa." "she comes home the other day, and she tells me, you know, she's got to talk to me right now, all this serious dramatic shit." "she accuses me of imagining all this." "what was the word she used?" "uh, "psychosomatic,"" "you know, we bring things on ourselves." "so she's a fucking philosopher all of a sudden." "now, i'm thinking, where did she pick that up?" "[laughs] i have no idea, charlie, but i'm real sorry about it." "well, come on, now, mick." "you see her every day." "i'm wondering if someone's been whispering in her ear like a little shit bird." "charlie, i got my own fucking problems, okay?" "hey, mick." "[imitates whispering]" "[plucked string music]" "* *" "fartlett." "what the fuck did you just say?" "what?" "i didn't say anything?" "you are so fucking lucky you got your brother." "hey, fuck you." "you fuck--oh, shit." "oh, oh." "oh." "you fuck--oh!" "get off me!" "get off me!" "aaah!" "ow!" "get off me!" "get off me." "oh." "ah!" "ah!" "aaah!" "[thunder booming]" "what the hell is this?" "get out of the car right now." "yes, you're gonna apologize to this boy." "for what?" "this boy does not have the luxuries you do." "he's less fortunate than you are." "yeah, he's still a fucking asshole." "scotty, god damn it." "ow." "when jimmy came here, he almost killed him." "he didn't have to apologize." "what, jimmy beat this boy too?" "yes, a long time ago." "and i heard you say "fuck" 1,000 times last night." "watch your mouth." ""fuck, fuck, motherfucker."" "scotty, stop it." "you know, fuck this." "oh, yeah, i'm sure you give a shit." "fuck you. fuck dad." "you guys fucking suck, man." "[train rumbling, horn blowing] i'm glad you decided to drop by and see the place." "when i picked him up from school today, his principal informed me that he's been suspended for a week." "this o'leary gonna press charges?" "no, no, they're not, uh-- mickey, they're not good parents." "well, punish him." "you know how." "but i didn't do anything." "look, we all need to learn how to take responsibility for our actions." "we should at least pay for this boy's medical expenses." "fine." "he did hit me first." "no, that was months ago." "and he called you a nigger-rich savage." "fuck him and his medical bills." "that was months ago." "and, what, you've been waiting for the right time to pounce him?" "[quietly] no." "today he called me fartlett." "he called you what?" "fartlett." "scott, scott, you don't think." "what did i tell you when i built the site about people being jealous?" "don't you remember?" "i don't have to fucking listen to you anymore." "fuck you." "[door clicks open and shut] mick." "what is the fucking point?" "you don't need me to punish him." "no, it's not about that." "what is it about, then?" "some twisted way for you to make me feel bad?" "no." "look, divorced and separated parents let their kids get away with murder because they feel guilty that they broke up the home." "but it's a trap 'cause the kids wind up feeling resentful, and even worse, on drugs, god knows what else." "[laughs] i mean, i'm out of the fucking house 18 hours and 45 minutes, and you're dr. fucking ruth now?" "she's a sex therapist, mick." "and i saw it on donahue." "it is true." "he's mad because you threw his father out." "it's normal." "is it normal that now he says he hates his father?" "is that normal too?" "then you accomplished what you set out to do." "and what's that?" "to pin the whole thing on me." "oh." "wow." "i came here for him, and now you're making it all about you." "wow." "she still awake?" "that's good." "throw me down one." "one what?" "the smoke, i could see it from my window." "since when do you smoke?" "don't be a tight-ass." "throw me one." "this thing isn't gonna light itself, you know." "[snaps]" "these always remind me of my dad... when he was dying of cancer." "i was your age." "his dad died from it too." "he was so hell-bent that he was gonna get it, his nerves were shot." "the fucking doctors actually told him to smoke." "lying in that bed, 80 pounds, stinking up the whole room." "ah, what did they know back then, right?" "hey, come on down." "we'll go to carvel." "we'll go get a shake." "no, i'm tired." "i have school tomorrow." "you're suspended." "still, mom will get mad if i go this late." "it's not even 11:00." "come on down." "she'll never know." "then i'll be a liar too." "[train wheels clicking] i never lied to her, scott." "she just never bothered to ask." "it isn't some state secret that we haven't been getting along and for a long time too." "people do stupid things when they're trying to get something that doesn't fit to fit." "i don't know what to say to you." "but i've already lost one kid because of my problems with your mother." "i don't want to lose the other." "well--well, then why did you have to fuck her, dad?" "it's tough to be a man, scott." "you got to make money to put food on the table." "you got to be a dad to your kids." "you got to be a husband to your wife." "the money part i got." "the dad part, i'm batting .500." "the husband part... then other people come into the picture at the right or the wrong time, and things happen." "i was unhappy." "i am unhappy." "but i promise you that everything is gonna be okay." "now, please, come down here before fucking carvel closes." "i can't." "[ambling acoustic music]" "* *" "here it is." "oh." "okay." "[gasps] i hope it fits." "i mean, you're growing so fast." "here, let's put it on." "oh, nice." "well, it's not exactly a saint's name, but it's too late to change it now, huh?" "so stand up straight." "let me look at you." "god, you look like a priest." "mom." "okay, how about, uh, you know, you look like an angel." "there you go." "hey, listen to me, scott." "scott." "i know you're mad, and that's fine." "but, uh... i have my flaws too." "okay, baby?" "oh, mickey, the tie." "come on over here for a minute." "i wanted to talk to you-- oh, sure." "have a seat." "i need to see this." "you know what i think is funny?" "how they say that today is the actual day you become a man." "[church bell tolling] i mean, how do they know that, right?" "it's just a ceremony." "it doesn't really mean anything literally." "well, don't rush it, okay?" "it's not all it's cracked up to be." "all right." "all right, we got to cut this goddamn hair of yours, for crying out loud." "okay." "let's not keep god waiting." "[static buzzing] it's muggy tonight, huh?" "i take it you're not coming." "[sighs] always the party pooper." "it's all right." "i'll bring you home some leftovers, huh?" "[high-pitched droning]" "[furnace droning] [tapping]" "[high-pitched droning]" "[whispering] wow." "[upbeat funky music]" "* * * now that you're gone * * all that's left is a band of gold * * all that's left of the dreams i hold * you know, i had, uh, donahue on the tv set the other day." "and they were saying how people who get separated-- uh, and they didn't say what number, but a percentage of them, a good percentage of them end up getting back together." "huh." "could be bullshit." "i don't know." "you, um-- you want to, uh, help me make a few of these guys in this room jealous?" "hi." "nice party." "yeah, you know my dad." "everything's got to be big." "come talk to me." "i got to tell you, it's getting awfully lonely over there." "you know, i thought maybe tonight, because it's a special occasion, i could, you know-- mickey... look, you'll always be the father of my children." "and i respect that." "but if you want to spend the night, it's gonna be on the couch." "you got that?" "i'll take it." "i thought you weren't talking to me." "i'm on the fence." "well, if it means anything, technically, i'm a man as of today, so-- please, a man?" "i heard you're still a bald eagle." "you know, no pubes." "who said that?" "me." "i just made it up and told anybody who'd listen." "i'm just kidding, jerk." "silk?" "uh, i don't know." "it's nice." "can i try it?" "sure." "seems like forever ago since i had mine." "so much has changed." "it was only last year." "it's different for girls." "a lot changes in a year." "well, you know, a lot changed for me too." "you know how i always said i date older guys?" "well, it's not true." "i mean, it's true, but... i never let them, you know... i'm still a virgin." "well, what do you have to say about that?" "well, so am i." "duh." "let's go inside." "[exhales deeply] fuck." "all right, first things first." "you never apologized for telling your dill weed friends that you fingered me, you know?" "i'm sorry." "and, um, you're not gonna, like, use me or whatever, right?" "n-no." "are we gonna, like, do it?" "[snickers] do you really think we should talk about it?" "sorry." "[snickers]" "[groans] what's wrong?" "[snickers] no, that--that was a good thing." "um, could-- could you help me?" "[grunts]" "[static buzzing] [birds chirping] [high-pitched droning]" "[intense high-pitched droning]" "[intense high-pitched droning] hey, hey." "so... how do you feel?" "i, uh... um... after last night." "you can tell me." "i mean, you know, do you feel a little differently, uh-- 'cause i know you just-- you're a different person." "[laughs] scotty." "you're officially a man in the eyes of the lord." "[sighs deeply] [high-pitched droning] i can't take this anymore." "this isn't a marriage." "every day, you looked at me in the eye, and you told me that you were going out to find a job." "what did you do, play hide-and-seek down in the basement?" "so you're a 150-pound baby i'm carrying on my back?" "[clicking] i never knew i could hate anybody as much as i hate you, charlie." "don't ignore me." "i mean, i don't mind working." "but if i wanted to be the--the--the breadwinner, the goddamn man of the house, believe me, i wouldn't have picked you to be married to." "[echoing] don't fucking ignore me, charlie!" "[clicking]" "[high-pitched droning]" "[birds chirping]" "[groans]" "[high-pitched droning]" "what?" "nothing." "[high-pitched droning]" "[bus engine rumbling] [engine backfires]" "[dreamy organ music]" "* *" "[plucked string music]" "* * [gunshot]" "* *" "* *" "* *" "[gunshot] * *" "* stranded * * aon a desert island * * destiny keeps smiling * * on you and me * * for flying so high * * our wings are melting * * what a perfect ending * * to be here with you crashing *" "* an emergency landing * * there's no one around *" "* * * so we better settle down * * and make ourselves at home *" "* * * suddenly * * you're my only family * * if you can't understand me * * this is our exit plan * * let's disagree * * to agree * * that making ourselves happy *" "* is driving us so crazy * * running out of empty * * there's no one around *" "* * * so we better settle down * * and make ourselves at home *" "* *" "* *" "* we plan here to stay * * it's always a sunny day * * in outer space * * we plan here to stay * * it's always a sunny day * * in outer space * * there's no one around *" "* so we better settle down * * and make ourselves at home * * let's make ourselves at home * * let's make ourselves at home * * make ourselves at home *"