Previously on "I'm Dying Up Here"...
Tell them that Eddie's just a big fucking anchor.
I've been working on stuff for my second album.
Like, new material. Be cool to know what you think.
But you're enjoying your time at "Watts Local"?
I'm enjoying the paycheck, I'll tell you that much.
With this, that's a motherfucking series, Adam.
Got to pick up Amanda. She moved in, you know.
Maybe Amanda's right to hate me.
She doesn't hate you. Just doesn't know you.
That audition that we made you go out on?
$14,000 an episode,
over $300,000.
Saul Hudson, the guy who was going to produce
yours and Ralph's sketch show.
Right.
How long have you two been fucking?
Eddie...
Whoa, Eddie, come on, man.
Synced and corrected by louvette www.addic7ed.com
Fuck. Come on!
Yah!
Can't say money looks good on you.
You either, but then again, radio money.
Who does it look good on?
Don't bite the hand that gives you airtime there, mailman.
Or haven't you learned that yet?
I take my lessons from oracles
not wearing polyester, Kenny.
My show is a primo stop on your little apology tour,
so you should be sucking my polyester-wearing dick.
Your show is the cultural equivalent of cow tipping.
My show is number two in LA.
You're right, your show is shit everywhere.
- You mouth breathing... - Radio equivalent of a...
- White trash... - Forearm up your ass...
- At six in the morning. - Little fucking cunt face.
And we're back, with my old pal, Ron Shack...
AKA, Benny the Mailman.
It's Benny time! Pleasure to be here
with you this morning, Kenny.
You know, I welcome any opportunity
to talk about playing Benny.
I was just the doorman at Goldie's when I got the gig.
Sounds like somebody remembers who butters their bread.
The producers reminded him of that big time.
We'll be hearing that speech on all the talk shows.
Well, he should go door to door.
You don't stare a gift horse in the mouth, especially on Carson.
What would you think if I stared a gift horse
dead in the mouth?
I would say it's too early in the morning for a riddle.
- So what's up? - Me and my man Ralph.
We got a chance to make a sketch show
based on my comedy, like, my voice.
MTM, they talking a lot of money and 22 episodes.
Of course, anybody would be a fool to pass that up
on something that's not even guaranteed
to be anything, but I might be that fool.
What do you think?
It doesn't matter what I think.
I don't want you looking at me like I'm just some dumb kid.
Why would I do that?
You know, I'm turning my back on a golden opportunity
just to chase a long shot.
Look, you really believe in this?
It scare the shit out of me, if that mean anything.
Look, fear is always the first step
in anything worthwhile.
So you think it's a good idea?
I think it's always a good idea when a man bets on himself.
But it sounds like you and your man, Ralph,
have a lot of work cut out for you,
so you need to get off your fool ass and get to it.
Because "dream" is a verb, young man.
Yes, ma'am, yes, ma'am.
Hey, what you doing later?
I don't know. What did you have in mind?
Well, you know, I was thinking that maybe
we could go to your place for a change, all right?
I could...
I could make dinner.
How about we go to the Four Seasons?
There are lots of other places to sweat
other than my kitchen.
I'll call you later.
Mm-hmm.
Bye.
They like him best.
Which member of the Addams family would you be?
Whoever's not actually in the family.
Families are cesspools.
Hm.
So Lurch.
Lurch?
Well, if you don't actually want to be
a member of the family, then you're fucking Lurch, man.
Apropos of everything, did you find a place to live yet?
Yeah, I found a cozy one bedroom.
In Tempe, Arizona.
This is the court appearance for your obscenity charge?
Holy shit. Nick, this is tomorrow.
Yeah.
I just think of it as really menacing fan mail.
You know, if you skip out on this,
you could do six months in jail.
Yeah.
You're an idiot.
Duh.
- Okay. - And his scarf is so long.
Far out redecoration.
The echo may create some issues
with you crying yourself to sleep at night,
but maybe we can just kind of shove a towel under the door.
Buddy, could you fuck off, please?
- I'm really not in the mood. - I'm not going to say a word.
Is there a law against laying next to
a hollowed out human being?
Seriously, please go.
Not until you give me the number of your decorator.
I really thought I had Cass.
What did I miss?
And if I missed that, what else am I missing?
You didn't miss anything. Her and Nick are both assholes.
- Yeah, maybe. - Maybe?
Dude, let me be your inner anger for a little while,
because you kind of suck at it.
Nick is a loser junkie.
He has the integrity
of a five-year-old with his fingers crossed.
He's the comedic equivalent of a summer vacation to Auschwitz.
- I'm listening. - Cassie is a self-obsessed
Mata Hari who uses Goldie's as her own personal dick factory.
She's the McDonald's of sex.
Seriously, they should take down their golden arches
and just have Cassie doing a sit-up out front.
How's this working for you? Do you want to vent some more?
Maybe a little. What about Nick?
Unfunniest fuck ever. He's like if ass cancer
wore sunglasses indoors and pretended to own a motorcycle.
I had no idea I was this angry.
Goldie.
I just got a call from a probation officer,
wanting to confirm that Amanda Robbins was working here.
I told him you'd give him a call when you got in.
- No, Cassie, no, just chill. - I need to talk to him.
Your bed's decorating our driveway.
You need further clarification?
I need to apologize.
You want to apologize. But you need to leave.
Cassie, hey, hey!
Come on, cut him a break.
He'll talk when he ready.
Yeah.
Man, that's just fucking ridiculous.
- You're still pissed off? - That is correct, Ronnie.
Well, I did your stupid apology tour.
I'm out there kissing so much ass, it's athletic.
I think that deserves at least a grin.
You'll get your grin when you fix things at home.
Those TV and radio spots you've been doing?
That's buying back what you said to the American people.
That's easy; they're schmucks.
But the folks on the call sheet, that is on you.
But the cast hated me before Carson.
Look, what can I say? Repucker up.
You got your work cut out.
All right, fine, but if they don't
accept my apology, I'm done.
Oh, you're right about that.
Cast first, smile second.
All right, guys, we've got Saul on speaker.
I'm here guys. What's the word?
The word is I'm a miracle worker.
- He talked to NBC. - I didn't talk. I took action.
I shoved the show so far up the peacock's ass,
he's wearing an afro.
Schlosser agreed to let you two make a pilot
as a part of Saul's deal.
That's fucking great, Bruce.
Let me get to work. I'll call later today
when I nail down our offices.
So long, partners.
Motherfucker!
I still have to get on the phone with MTM
and break the news that you're out
on account of your "artistic integrity."
Does anybody have a synonym for "artistic integrity"?
- Balls? - Honor?
Poverty.
This thing fails, forget lunch at Ma Maison.
You two will be splitting a street pigeon
over a glass of wine run through a hobo's kidneys.
This is a pilot
for a fraction of a fraction
of what MTM was offering.
And it fucks up your commission and pissed you off.
- We get it. - Bruce.
We appreciate everything that you've done,
but there ain't nothing on like this.
This could truly be special.
Your appreciation is not the currency I work in.
I don't need special. I need on air.
- Hey. - Hey, it's in.
The lineup for tonight at the main stage,
which if I'm not mistaken, is code for your vagina.
It says here I'm going up between Nick and Eddie.
- I think you skipped me. - Oh, I didn't skip you.
I spared you, I didn't want you to bomb
at two things in one night.
Ooh.
What are you laughing at?
You might have to go to the store,
buy the potatoes, and make it yourself,
because I want those goddamn eight cases
of vodka here tonight!
Everything okay?
Oh, same shit, different day.
What's up?
Um, I'm thinking after tonight,
that I'm going to take a few weeks off.
Oh, that's a great idea, Cass.
Give them time to stockpile their insults, huh?
Yeah.
Go through the fire, sweetheart.
Get it over with.
- You talked to him yet? - I tried talking to Eddie.
You do the crime, Cass.
I'm a fuck-up, Goldie. I fuck myself at every turn.
Fucking up, well, that's just the price we pay
for getting out of bed in the morning.
Not the way I fuck up.
Hey, it's not all a mess.
The Canadian liked your act, you got that formal audition.
Who knows what will come of that, huh?
And if you think you've got the market cornered
on fuck-ups, I've got a daughter who would bet
I'd give you a run for your money...
I have a son.
- Jesse. - Oh.
He's ten now.
- I gave him up. - Mm-hmm.
I gave him up for this.
Whatever the fuck this turns out to be.
Well, Cass, this is you.
Mm?
Does anybody else know?
- Nick. - Oh, jeez.
They don't have to make the choices we do.
The shame and guilt following us like weather
over every decision that puts us into consideration first.
And the worst part, we're the loudest voice
in that Greek chorus.
Why is that?
Why can't I just be on my side?
Are you still in his life?
As an aunt.
What kind of person walks away from their own child?
Well, someone who loves him enough
to know that she's not ready
to provide the life he deserves.
I want him to know that this wasn't easy.
- Mm. - None of it.
I mean, he's practically grown.
I'm a secret that comes to visit once a year.
He'll know of me, but...
That's all he'll know of me.
Hey, I got to say, I fucking hate you two.
Okay, your success turns my stomach.
There are so many people that deserve it more.
- Mm-hmm. - But honestly?
You both suck, all right,
congrats to Ralph and Adam on your pilot.
- Cheers. - Cheers.
That's how he says congratulations?
I got five bucks that you get mistaken
for craft service guys.
Hey, that's fine, because the extra zeroes
at the end of our paycheck will dry our tears.
Ooh, two black guys got a TV show.
I'll call the NAACP to congratulate them.
Well, it's not a show, it's a pilot,
and if there was a joke in there, as usual, I missed it.
Yeah, I might have taken that one
out of the oven a little too soon.
Jeff, a round for the comics on the house, huh?
Ooh, Goldie, you sure you can afford that?
Oh, and a sour apple martini for my friend Billy here.
What we are here tonight celebrating,
Ralph and Adam's success,
I wish for every one of you fuckers
who sets foot on my stage.
So you work hard enough, you stick to the game plan,
and we will be raising our glasses to you someday.
Couldn't have done this without you, Goldie.
I'm in the middle of my fucking speech, Ralph.
My fault. Roll on, Mama.
Ralph, you've been here a long time.
I know what you put into this.
Took a lot of guts.
Tenacity.
God-given grit.
And Adam, your belief in Ralph,
your loyalty, it's commendable.
Turned down a bucket load of cash guaranteed
for an if-come?
Shows a lot of faith.
- L'chaim. - L'chaim.
Well, life has no guarantees.
Not now, it doesn't.
Ralph, you're smart. You're both talented.
I know you'll figure it out.
Eh?
She dumped you. Heartbreak.
The only thing that can do that to a face.
I hate to be a ball buster, but I did call it, kid, didn't I?
Yeah, well, your fucking medal's in the mail.
You remember my third album? It went platinum.
It was right after my second divorce.
I Rumpelstiltskined the shit out of that fucking marriage.
Well, congratulations. I'm sure it's satisfying
when you're the dick in the relationship,
but I'm not the asshole in my story.
Well, no one's the asshole in their own story, shithead.
Huh.
I find it hard to imagine a Roy relationship
where you're not wearing that cape.
Now, see, I like that.
That's the shit I'm talking about.
That's the Eddie, right? I like this Eddie.
Keep this Eddie.
All right, listen, I got a gig tomorrow in Pasadena,
so maybe you could drive me between your weeping spells.
Of course, it's my life's work.
You had to go out with the ugliest Allman brother?
Is that what this is?
You blink twice if you're a hostage, okay,
if you've been kidnapped.
Oh, shit, I'm so... Oh, I'm so sorry.
Not paying attention to where I'm walking, I'm really sorry.
Don't cry over spilled vodka, cowgirl.
It wasn't even top shelf.
...or you kidnapped her, and lured her in
with a massive amount of cocaine.
That's the only way that...
I'm sorry about Nick. I know that was wrong.
- I'm... - Cassie.
We're cool.
Nick's fine, but I don't call dibs on dick.
I mean, I didn't come back to California,
the birthplace of the sexual revolution,
to fuck one guy.
Yeah, me neither, apparently.
Come on, you dirty hoe. You owe me a fresh drink.
Looks like a police lineup if someone robbed an L.L. Bean.
No Gloria tonight?
I thought she would be here celebrating with you.
Nope, she got her own shit going on.
Interesting.
The fuck that supposed to mean?
I don't know, it's just
your big break, and she's busy.
Yeah.
You guys always meeting at hotels,
never at her place.
So?
Mm, just seems weird.
Right? Hard to nail down.
She spent all that money on hotel bills,
when she's got a perfectly good place you could be going to.
Welcome to the stage, Gabe Schwartz.
Give it up.
Give it up for Nick Beverly, everybody,
- Nick Beverly. - Nick!
Hey, you recognize this squirt?
- Tammy? - Yeah.
- Oh, wow. - Hi, Nicky.
- Hey, good to see you. - You too.
Uh, what are you doing out here?
College tour.
We were real excited to see you on "Carson."
I never saw somebody I knew on TV before.
Yep.
She wanted to see her big shot cousin.
We leave the day after tomorrow, and so I thought
we'd stop by and give it one more shot.
Yeah, glad you did.
You want to come out with us for dinner tonight?
There's this place that serves breakfast all day.
I've had pancakes for dinner every night since we got here.
I can't.
Yeah, I promised a friend I was going to do a thing.
Yeah, I'm sorry.
Hey, it was last minute, you know?
We thought your dance card would probably be full.
Yeah.
I'm proud of you, Nick.
Real proud.
We all are.
Thank you.
I got to run. I got to run.
That's... thanks for coming.
- Good to see you too. - Yep, thanks,
- thanks for coming. - Okay, bye.
He starts spanking me with the Bible.
I'm like, Daddy, you can't spank me with a Bible.
The Bible's all about Jesus' love.
And he says, I ain't spanking you
with the "Jesus' love" part. This here's "spare the rod."
Oh, man, that sounds tough, having a preacher as a Dad.
You can't win an argument, that's for sure.
It was always two against one. Him and Jesus ganging up on me.
Regular schoolyard bullies.
- You good with your parents? - Very.
But in all fairness, their being dead
really cuts down on the friction.
Oh, shit.
- Damn. - Yeah.
When I was ten, they died in a car crash.
Fell asleep at the wheel.
Went to bed a happy family, and three days later,
I was on a bus to Wink.
So I know all about God working
in mysterious ways.
He does, but it don't mean it's not fucked up.
That it is.
Your daddy ever see you perform?
He ain't big into feminism.
What is men's problem with feminism?
When you think about it, it's working out
pretty well for them.
You got women who want to make their own money,
initiate casual sex, maybe not in the case
of you and your dad, but...
It seems like it could be good for secretaries too.
Like, the more women in the workplace,
it spreads the groping around.
Yeah, it sounds like something a man came up with.
Hey, you had me
at braless titties, man.
Sign me up!
Braless titties.
All of feminism is based on braless titties.
Let's go, I packed your bag.
What the fuck are you talking about?
Come on, if we leave now, we can get to Tempe
in time for your hearing.
You really do love me.
No, but technically, Lurch was a member of the family.
Come on. There you go.
- Got all your stuff? - Yeah.
I'm proud of you.
Hey, everybody, could I have your attention?
It'll just take a second.
I'm an asshole.
Great.
Sadly, now that I have your attention,
I have something I'd like to say to everybody.
When I first got cast as Benny, I was living in a closet.
An actual closet, and I couldn't even afford that.
I had a roommate.
And then, once I started playing Benny,
everything changed pretty quick, you know?
I got a little money.
People started treating me different,
and I kind of turned into a different person.
You became a prick.
Rene, I assume that was supposed to be to yourself,
but regardless, I welcome the constructive criticism.
Look, I know that I fucked up bad,
and I am so sorry for the shit I said on Carson.
I know that this doesn't make any of it right,
but I got everybody a little something
just to sort of...
"Family time."
Ron Shack, ladies and gentlemen.
Huh?
- Thank you. - Thank you.
- Thanks, Rene. - Yeah, man.
Thanks, everybody. Everybody, please get a hat.
Take all the hats you want. One size fits all.
- Ah. - Oh, Jesus.
What do you want?
Can't an employer stop by and bring her new employee
a starting gift?
That's right, I spoke to your probation officer.
He told me you work at Goldie's.
So congratulations, you work at Goldie's.
Goldie's isn't a good environment for me.
Ah-ah-ah, you hired you. I didn't.
This is your problem, and I am offering you a solution.
Oh, so you're above lying, now?
- All right, come on, come on. - Come on?
Where?
- Gonna take a ride. - Can't.
- Having lunch with dad. - Cancel.
- I said I have plans. - Oh, I see, all right.
That's okay, I understand. You are an adult, you're 18.
An adult who violated probation, hm?
Get your act together, come on.
I'll get you a burger on the way.
Mr. Carnegie, let me know if there's anything missing.
Whatever you need, I'll make sure it's here tomorrow.
Hey, it's champagne Friday tomorrow.
I'm bringing the flutes and the sauce.
What the fuck is this?
- You threw the hats away? - No.
No, no, no, not all. I'm giving mine to my nephew.
The barber fucked him up pretty good, man.
Those hats were a gift.
You know what this show was about
when you were sleeping in that closet?
It was about us.
A black family dealing with real shit.
Now, it's a cartoon about Benny the Mailman.
So you just pretended to accept my apology?
Hey, let's get really comfortable
with this pretending thing here, man.
You pretend like you want to be here,
and we'll pretend like we can stand your ass.
Now that we're done eating,
can you take me to wherever it is you want to take me?
We're here.
A run-down intersection?
Cool.
You were here once before.
You and me, 13 years ago.
Yeah, well, I was five, so I wouldn't remember.
That's why I'm remembering for the two of us.
- Your father had just left... - Oh, that didn't take long.
- Oh, this isn't about blame. - Mm.
You're a woman now.
I'm talking to you like a woman.
There you go.
I had $52 in my bank account.
Club was pulling in shit.
You had an ear infection, so I was racing you
to the hospital, when my shitbox jalopy just quit.
Right here, in the middle of Timbuk-fucking-tu.
First my marriage, then my car.
God's punching bag.
Anyway.
We're sitting here, cars honking,
me cursing your dad, you know,
feeling used and abused...
You married him.
In the dance of love,
rarely is the brain allowed to lead.
Hm?
So.
I pushed the car to this curb
and sat.
Sat and waited.
Having no idea what I was waiting for.
Finally, it dawned on me, I was waiting for him.
- Dad? - Yeah.
Waiting for him to magically appear and rescue us.
Something he'd never done before, and not because
he didn't want to, but he couldn't.
It just isn't him.
And?
And...
I finally stopped waiting.
Stopped blaming your dad.
That's the worst thing a person can do,
is wait for someone else to do the thing
they need to do themselves.
So what you're saying is I should stop
blaming you for everything?
Oh, no, no, no, sweetie, what I'm talking about...
What I'm telling you about is...
the most freeing moment in my life.
Why'd you let him hit you?
Let him?
It's complicated.
I guess I didn't see it that way.
It was just something that happened sometimes.
I can see your confusion.
I know, it...
Well, the best way I can describe it is
couples have a rhythm, a dance.
Sweet, sometimes.
Sad, passionate.
Sometimes violent.
Well, why is that?
I don't know.
It's so easy to disappear
and look in the mirror, and see no one.
I went away for a long time.
And I had to fight to get back.
You understand what I'm saying?
I would never let a man hit me.
That's good, that's good.
You're a strong girl, Amanda.
- Don't you mean stubborn? - Like a fucking mule.
Your Honor, I've had a lot of time to reflect on my actions
and my choice of words.
I was wrong.
I want to thank Your Honor and the good people of Tempe
for having given me this opportunity
to grow not only as an artist, but as a man.
To the offended parties, I truly apologize
for the language contained in my art.
Respectfully, Nick Beverly.
The filth you spew has nothing to do with art.
We have a responsibility to our fellow man,
and especially our children, to be decent.
To spread decency.
Your art does the opposite.
Mr. Beverly? Mr. Beverly?
- Yeah? - Language can tear
a society apart, just look at Babel.
Do you understand now how you wronged that boy?
How...
- How I wronged that boy? - Stick to the script.
I was trying to protect
that boy, Your Honor.
Guarantee you, there are obscenities happening
feet from your courthouse
far worse than my saying the word "fuck",
okay?
Let me ask you something, you think that's the first time
that kid's been slapped around by his father?
You think this is an isolated incident?
- Mr. Beverly... - Why isn't he in here?
- You will respect this court. - Why isn't he in here
- explaining himself? - Mr. Gunton, I suggest you...
Do you understand that that's a little kid...
...the heck out of here before he's hit with contempt.
Huh? Who's going to fucking protect him, Your Honor?
Is it you?
I advise you to get your client out of here now...
Because it sure isn't his father.
...before I rescind my offer.
You know, if hearing the word "fuck" is the worst thing
that happens to that kid in his life,
he's a lucky son of a bitch.
You have five seconds, Mr. Gunton.
Ooh, wow, a whole beer.
Where do I sign up, you know?
Pizza and beer, like, I don't understand that.
- So, you ready? - For what?
You're going up.
What are you talking about?
- Now? - Yes.
- No, Roy... - Yes.
- Hey, I'm not going up. - Listen, you're going to throw
your entire act, and you're going to get up there,
and you're going to alchemize everything that Cassie did to
you, and you're going to make something useful out of it.
Okay, but I'm not you, Roy.
Not every bit of shit luck that I experience
is fodder for an act.
No, you're not me; you're some pipsqueak deli jockey
who goes up every night at 1 a.m. and dies at Goldie's.
I need to see your balls, Eddie.
Big, hairy, bulbous balls.
I want you to take one elephantitis-sized nut,
- put it in one arm... - I understand, okay.
I fucking get it, okay, I'll go.
All right, you're up after this guy.
Pork stew here that a 98-year-old...
All right, a lot of talk about feminism these days.
It's great, women are making huge strides.
Men have a lot of complaints about it.
And I just keep thinking, what is there
to complain about for you?
Half this shit sounds like stuff you came up with.
Yeah, come here, come here,
you guys, come over here, listen.
I got this big idea, right?
I want to start a movement, okay?
Yeah, hey, lady, you want to come to work,
work for half the pay, knock yourself out, all right?
I look forward to groping you at the office.
And another thing, no more opening doors.
No more giving your seats up on the bus, all right?
You take a lady out to eat, boom, she pays.
Sex with us? Her idea.
Bras?
Gone, my friends, gone.
All for this little thing I made up called feminism.
You're welcome very much.
I'm telling you fellas, they are going to
take this to the streets.
Oh, Susan B. Anthony? Please.
More like Susan B. Quiet.
I just found out that my girlfriend
slept with a good friend of mine.
And when people actually found out,
somebody actually said to me,
oh, it was probably just a misunderstanding.
A misunderstanding?
Uh, how does that work?
How exac... exactly does a misunderstanding work?
- Oh... - You suck!
Bring up the guy who fucked your girlfriend.
- I bet he's funny. - Are you fucking shitting me?
Hey, you can't blame her for fucking another guy.
I've been listening for 30 seconds,
and I'm ready to fuck a fleet.
Yeah, well, it's, you know, still a little raw.
- Hurts just a little bit. - Come on, Eddie.
You're losing this crowd faster than you lost Cassie.
Cassie's the ex-girlfriend in question.
Don't explain the joke.
I mean, what am I supposed to do with this?
Do I really have to tell you
if a bartender gives you his number?
Fuck him for free drinks.
Ugh, no thank you. I am done with men.
- Yeah, right. - No, really.
Think about all the free time I'll have now.
There's so many languages to learn.
There's arts as well as crafts.
Oh, hello, table for two, please.
Dawn?
Come on, Cassie.
- This is fucking boring. - Of course it's boring.
But meditative. Just focus on your breath.
Think about the irrational nature of human relationships.
- You know what might help? - What?
If you didn't wear so much motherfucking cologne.
Who the fuck wears cologne to a stakeout?
It's just a little Brut for men.
More like fucking brutal. I'm in a convertible,
and I still feel like I'm being hotboxed.
Wait, shut up. Get down.
Looky looky, who wants nookie.
Who do we got here?
Ooh, this guy's even younger than you are.
She's got a full-blown age fetish.
And I know that walk.
That the "I'm about to smoke a doobie"
"and lay some pipe" swagger.
Fucker's even got his own key.
Maybe he opened it with his humongous dick.
Wait.
No, I was joking, it was a joke.
I'm gonna ruin his fucking car.
What are you doing? Shit, god damnit.
Shit, shit, what are you doing?
Easy, Stanley Kowalski.
Come on, what are you doing?
Great.
What the hell you doing pounding on my door?
Your door?
So what you saying? It's your house?
Maybe it's the wrong address.
Maurice, who is it, baby?
Scratch that.
How many cradles you robbing, woman?
You, I got it, Mama. Just some punks.
- But I'm handling it. - Mama?
Mom... Wait.
Is that "mama" like as in, your sugar mama,
or "mama" like, "Happy Mother's Day,
I got you these flowers" mama?
Who is making all of that noise? I...
Adam, what are you doing here?
Hey, baby. How you doing?
I just was in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop by
and introduce myself to your son that you never mentioned.
Dude, why are you calling my mother "baby"?
Why he call you baby?
Seriously, Maurice? You're not caught up?
Man, no way, this shit ain't fucking me up.
He seems nice.
Eddie Zeidel, everybody. Let him hear it, okay?
Comedy's not easy, it's not easy.
You are a fucking sadist.
You made me look like a fucking jerkoff.
Oh, boo fucking hoo, you get a little blood in the water,
and you go running back to the sand
holding your skirt in your fingertips.
Oh, please, I don't even know why I waste my time
- trying to help you. - Oh, help?
That's fucking help?
That's what you call fucking help?
See, you don't want to see how the sausage is made.
You're happy just serving it, which is okay,
because that's more your gig.
Oh, that's really fucking clever, Roy.
You act like you wrote the book.
We both know you don't fucking write.
And you act like a guy who gets paid under the table
to drive, so quit being a fucking putz.
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
- You fucking torpedoed my act. - Torpedoed your act?
You think that was a torpedo? That was a fucking BB gun
hitting a tomato can off a fence post.
It's no wonder she fucked another guy.
You got no fight.
I will fucking murder you.
We have a special guest in the audience tonight.
Do it. Come on.
Ladies and gentleman, Mr. Roy Martin!
Let's do this.
Come up here, Roy!
Roy Martin, ladies and gentlemen, let him hear it.
That kind of freaked you out, huh?
No.
Not at all.
What did that feel like?
Home.
I thought home wasn't such a nice place.
No, not my home.
Home.
What?
You don't got a home inside of you?
Someplace peaceful and private?
Sorry, God died when I was ten.
God gets so much shit.
Well, He never explains His actions,
and His people do a shitty job of it.
I'm talking about home.
Where you love you.
Do you love you?
If I get quiet enough.
When all the shit fades away.
Man, I wish I could get there.
Sorry.
I'm supposed to be apologizing.
The way I work through comics,
I think it was a natural assumption.
God and whiskey, huh?
No.
That was all me.
Well, I bet you're freaked out now, huh?
Now, my ex, my ex. Well, that was a good wife.
Oh yeah, she was a chef in the kitchen
and a whore in the bedroom.
Unfortunately, not at our house.
But life is still good.
Life is good.
She got all the dough, baby, I'll tell you.
Oh, the ex, she was a money grubber.
Fifty percent of everything.
Fifty percent.
I told her, I said, you know, if you screwed me this hard
during the marriage, we'd still be together.
Life is good, zing!
Now, I'm going to bring up a comic right now,
who actually was on this very stage
45 minutes ago.
That's right, and it went so well,
we're going to give him a second chance
to fucking get it together.
So please give him
a second chance welcome.
For the guy you really don't want to see,
the one and only, Mr. Eddie Zeidel.
Come on, Eddie
Come on up here.
It's okay, you little marionette.
Get your wooden ass up here.
- Come on, buddy. - Come on, Eddie.
- I'm not going anywhere, chum. - Come on, man, let's go.
- I'm not going anywhere. - Go up!
Once again, second time is a charm,
Mr. Eddie Zeidel!
Come on up here, somebody get him a booster chair.
Oh, there you are.
Make him feel good before I pick him up
and thank the Academy.
Mr. Eddie Zeidel.
All right.
Roy Martin, ladies and gentlemen.
The man who proves once and for all
that your grandmother didn't know shit about comedy.
Very funny, pee-wee.
The only guy who needs a stepstool
to go up on a broad.
Yeah, why don't I dig a hole, Roy, so you can blow me?
I don't have tweezers.
See, Roy, this is what happens when you mix vodka
and stool softeners, Roy. I told you.
Roy, you might want to call a moving van
because Budd Abbott just died, so your room's ready.
You're amazing, I've never seen anybody bomb
at the speed of sound.
Yeah, I may be short, Roy, but I'm not as short
as your fucking available bank balance, you deadbeat.
You know, Roy Martin is not actually his real name.
His real name is
vagina-ruining, dago fucking monster.
Or as his friends like to call him, Paycheck.
Ain't that right, Roy?
Fuck you, Roy.
- Oh, fuck you. - Fuck you.
What, you want to go, you fucking old man?
Not if you take your clothes off; you're not my type.
- Get off the stage! - You know what, I'll get off
the fucking stage when you can all
count to 20 without fucking taking your shoes off.
Fuck you, Roy, and fuck you, Pasadena.
And fuck roses, and fuck the fucking Rose Bowl.
Fuck the Jet Propulsion Laboratory.
Fuck the fucking Pasadena fucking Playhouse.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, I'm not going anywhere, folks.
I am not going anywhere, you fucking hicks!
- Fuck you! - You suck, you little asshole!
- What was that? - I said you suck,
you little asshole.
You really want to start something with me?
You're fucking fat, bald, and ugly.
Just like all of Roy Martin's fans.
You're fucking bald, and you've got these fucking
little ginger wispy hairs on your bald,
liver-spotted head.
Why don't you fucking heckle a dermatologist?
You fucking scumbag.
- Fuck you! - You got him now!
You know, you guys are like a fucking Diane Arbus wet dream.
Oh, what, did that go over your fucking heads?
You shouldn't be in a fucking comedy club.
You should be in a fucking circus tent,
waving at ticket holders.
You piece of shit, get off the stage.
Yeah, go fuck myself, I'm not going anywhere pal.
Get off the stage!
Why are you doing that to me?
Frankenstein's right over there.
That's funny.
I'll strangle you with my microphone!
- Eddie Zeidel, everyone! - I got fucking
more time! Fucking get off me.
Get the fuck off me.
How do you like that, folks?
How do you like that, you fucking still got me.
So you going to say something?
Was kind of hoping you would get the ball rolling.
Uh-uh, you come in my house, pounding on my door, uninvited.
You start the damn conversation.
I don't know where to start, okay?
I guess I'm just an idiot.
That's a good place.
Okay, then why didn't you tell me that you had a Maurice?
And that's the reason you never invited me over?
Because maybe it was my business.
It's the least you could do, considering.
What is it you think I owe you?
The truth would be nice.
Okay.
That's fair enough.
Here it is.
You're a boy, Adam, and I'm a grown ass woman.
I will tell you what I want to tell you,
when I want to tell you, if I want to tell you.
And I'm not saying this to hurt your feelings,
or shut you down.
I'm saying it because that's what it is.
Eh, I asked for the truth.
Hey.
Come here.
I have always told you the truth.
The worst this was was the sin of omission.
Come here.
Ah.
Don't use these fucking eyes to...
God damn.
I hate you.
- You hate me? - No, no.
- I'm sorry. - Okay...
Oh, Momma, seriously?
You are bad.
Tempe, baby.
Look, I know why I'm an angry dick.
Alcoholic mother, emotionally unavailable father
who may or may not have been fucking his dog.
- Chronic low self-esteem. - Oh, boy.
Enough about me.
What are you so pissed off about?
Who says I'm pissed off?
Nick, you're like a walking doomsday clock.
You know, heroin, going to jail, getting arrested.
Whatever that was in Tempe today.
You got to admit, man.
There is not a lot of square footage in your happy place.
What do you want me to say, Bill?
I guess yours wasn't the only fucked up childhood.
Maybe it's good we had fucked up childhoods.
Otherwise, we'd be working in a bank.
You ever think a bank might not have been so bad?
No, I've never thought that.
Why, you?
I don't know.
I do look pretty good in a suit.
Yeah.
- I'll catch you. - All right.
There you go. Thanks again, Roy.
What about him?
- What about him? - He worked.
Throw him something.
Not after the shit he pulled.
He's a comic; he got up on your stage.
Throw him something.
Fucking kidding me.
Here you go.
God damn it.
All right.
Always love having you, Roy.
Is that sarcastic?
For your bar mitzvah.
I already... Nick.
Come in.
Where's Tammy?
Oh, she met some girls at UCLA. They went out.
It was her last night, so I just, you know.
You don't get to be proud of me.
We have Jack Daniels. Um...
Vodka?
Tequila?
You could have said no, Nick.
What did you just say?
I would have stopped if you wanted me to.
History is open to interpretation.
You know, there's no single, eternal, immutable truth about
what was or what we are or were...
Fuck you.
I know, Nick.
It's hard.
It's hard for me.
Coming to grips...
with the truth.
But the, uh...
Tenor of your visit...
Suggests this is not a social call.
So...
Get to your purpose.
There you are.
I... I swear to Christ...
- I'll... I'll... - You'll what?
You going to tell?
You going to tell, Nick?
That's it?
All that bravado for that?
Pretty sure we got a situation.
Yeah, he just wandered in there,
and now, he's just stinking up the place.
He's been there four hours.
I can't believe I wished for all this.
You didn't.
You wished for success.
This...
Just came with it.
I tipped this waiter 100 bucks yesterday.
Ten dollar meal, I left a C-note.
And this guy practically carried me out to my car.
And I drove off, thinking...
There's nothing out there...
That would mean as much to me as that tip meant to him.
It's all fucked.
Don't romanticize.
- Romanticize what? - Struggle.
The good old days, not having two nickels to rub together.
Fuck that.
Success is new terrain, Ron, but...
You'll find your footing, trust me.
Besides, I'm out here with you, so fuck it.
We'll be okay.
I miss when blowjobs were still special.
It'll get back there. Don't worry.
That was a hint, Eddie.
Do you want to go first?
Yeah, I don't want to make waves.
Fucking took you long enough.
Yeah, it's been like, a decade of just beating around the bush.
- Hey. - Hey.
Got my audition time for Saturday Night Live.
Wow, look at you.
- Yeah. - Oh, don't mind if I do.
- Sorry about the other day. - Oh, stop.
Is that Amanda I saw working out there?
Yeah, courtesy of the State of California
probation department.
You're a good mom.
You too.
Synced and corrected by louvette www.addic7ed.com