Solos (2021) s01e05 Episode Script

1
Do you wish
you could take back
the worst day of your life?
-Can you smell my vagina?
Not Uh
No.
I'm not saying you look like
a pervert or anything.
I've got nothing against
perverts.
My Uncle Trevor was a pervert.
Sorry, I made this weird.
I didn't mean to make it weird.
The thing is
I sort of haven't been home yet.
Now, this is wild,
so wait for it.
Yesterday afternoon,
I went to the birthday party
of a two-year-old.
My friend's little girl.
I mean, well I mean,
our husbands work together,
I've only met her twice,
but it was a costume party,
obviously, hence
Et voila.
I'm, like, an angel, basically.
You know, like from the Bible.
I was checking that
I didn't smell sort of thing.
'Cause like I said,
I haven't been home.
I actually think
I might still be drunk.
I'm Jenny, by the way.
I am great fun at parties.
Reliable. I'm usually
the first person to arrive,
and the last person to leave.
That being said,
even I know that sometimes
you just gotta go home and
wash off your congealed mascara
and change your dirty panties.
Am I right?
Uh
I hate waiting.
Don't you?
So fucking boring.
Me and my husband
are trying for a baby.
I think my womb is fucked.
I find it kinda funny when
people say that, you know?
"Trying" for a baby.
Basically just means
he's ejaculating
inside me constantly,
but, you know,
in a romantic, organized way.
And I don't really
mind him doing it.
It's just nice to feel wanted
by your husband, you know?
Even if it is mainly to be
used as an incubator to grow
a miniature version of him
inside me
to feed his faltering ego.
Oh, he's an AI counselor.
We've been together
seven and a half years.
We met at a sushi bar.
He did have a brief dalliance
with Flavia from accounts,
but that was more my fault
because
I made him feel insecure about
his receding hairline.
And I think he'll be
a great father.
You know?
He's really wide.
And, uh, you know, we always
talked about having kids.
I just I hope that they
inherit my bone structure
because Lazlo is
built like a potato.
Lazlo's my husband, by the way.
Lopsided penis.
And I know that
it sounds like a cliché,
but I just know that
I was born to be a mother.
I'm patient and I'm Ah.
Kind. You know?
I've got so many Tupperwares.
And whenever I hold
another person's baby,
it stops crying.
Like, right away.
Plus, I'm not afraid of poop.
Or of accidentally killing it.
Anymore.
Also, kids fucking love me.
Seriously.
The kid next door,
obsessed with me.
He's very sweet, actually.
Tyler. He runs out to see me
whenever I get home.
It's like he waits for me,
listening for my car.
Like I got some creepy,
adorable stalker.
I used to baby-sit him.
Back when we first moved in.
Yeah, just weekends, you know,
or the odd evening after school.
It's not really a big deal.
Well, I mean, it was
a big deal at the time,
because I really
looked forward to it,
but I hardly ever
think about it now.
I wanted his dad to
sit on my face.
I know.
The truth is that Carl,
my neighbor,
is the sexiest man on Earth.
He's got those
tanned veiny hands
that you can just imagine
fondling your breasts.
I was going out to
take out the trash
and he just appeared.
Like a mirage.
Leaning over the fence.
"Hey, neighbor," he purred.
His chiseled jaw
catching the light,
and the trash bag split
and my ovaries exploded.
It was like I went into
some kind of a weird trance.
You know?
I know that he was talking
something about lawnmowers,
but all I could focus on
was his Adam's apple.
So prominent.
I had this overwhelming urge
to just suck it.
And then his son came
bounding over, thank God.
I think I agreed to baby-sit
purely out of embarrassment.
That, and also, I wanted to
snoop around Carl's house
and sniff his
dirty boxer shorts.
I was gonna trick him into
falling in love with me.
So it seems like
an excellent plan.
But I really didn't know
how to baby-sit.
Uh, and Tyler liked to
talk about Spider-Man.
Did I know that Spider-Man
could build a web
strong enough to hold The Hulk?
Did I know that Spider-Man
could bench press
ten tons at 200 miles per hour?
After a while,
I just started to say yes.
Cutting him off
before he could finish.
Did I know that
Spider-Man Yes.
Did I know
Fucking yes.
Oh, I mean, I didn't say
the F word, obviously,
but you get my drift.
I mean, it's just hard work
pretending to be
interested in somebody
when somebody is just,
like, whittling on,
you know what I mean?
Honestly, I think I just thought
there would be
a lot more sittin'.
You know, just hanging out
in another person's house.
Got to remember,
I wasn't being paid for this.
I mean, Carl had offered,
but I thought that
if I took the cash,
he'd be less likely
to pay me in sex.
I knew I had to make
the kid like me,
because if the kid liked me,
then the dad would like me.
So I let him run wild.
Like a hooligan.
He was riding his bike
in the house,
having ice cream for dinner.
Oh, it was so much fun.
The most fun I had in years.
I forgot that feeling, you know?
You know, just to be
free and fuckin' tear shit up.
Oh
I felt like I could be myself
around Tyler.
He didn't judge me.
You know?
And yeah, he talked about
Spider-Man a lot,
and he could be a tedious,
dweeby little bore,
but he was also just
really open.
I mean, I know that sounds
ridiculous
'cause I'm talking about
an eight-year-old,
but he'd listen to me.
Like what I had to say
actually meant something.
I have always found it
so difficult
to open up to people.
Ask anybody,
I'm a very closed book.
And Tyler would
ask me questions.
And I told him the truth.
The actual truth.
How I hated being Jenny Taylor.
How I didn't blame
my reproductive organs
for rejecting me.
How I didn't know if I could
ever love my own baby
knowing that we shared
the same shitty DNA.
I mean, he told me
about his life, too.
How the little turds
in his class
would bully him
about his glasses.
I mean, I could see why,
they were fucking hideous,
but
I felt this sort of
responsibility.
Like I wanted to protect him.
And then there was one day
where he just started to cry.
And I remember that
I just held him close
this tiny lycra-clad
quivering body,
and I started to cry, too.
Unashamedly.
We both just sat there on
the floor of his playroom
sobbing into each other's arms.
Two snotty humans just hurting.
And afterwards,
he looked up at me
his disproportionately
magnified red eyes
without a hint of malice,
and he said,
"Vivian said you were sad."
And in that moment,
as I looked back at him,
I knew that Carl had
a fucking girlfriend.
And I should have known,
actually,
because there were
two toothbrushes
in his bathroom.
And, of course,
Carl had a girlfriend.
Why wouldn't Carl have
a girlfriend?
Motherfucker!
Ugh!
I met her, eventually.
This "girlfriend."
Annoyingly beautiful.
One of those thin women
that you just know
has all her pubes lasered off.
French looking. I mean,
she is fuckin' French.
But she also looks French.
In an expensive Breton top way,
not in the garlicky way.
Worst of all,
she's fucking nice. Ugh!
I felt kind of pathetic
after I saw her.
Kind of silly.
I mean, to think that Carl
would ever look twice
at somebody like me.
I still carried on
babysitting, though.
Not because of Carl, obviously,
even though he was still
the sexiest man on Earth,
but because of Tyler.
Yeah. I grew fond of
the little dweeb.
As I used to wander around
Tyler's messy lived-in house
in my bare feet,
I used to imagine that
it was my house,
that I lived there,
that it was me who was
perfect and French.
I used to try on her shoes,
painful little pointy things.
I had a bath once
in their en suite.
Ahh.
And one night,
after I made sure
Tyler was asleep,
I went to their bedroom.
I looked at myself again
in their full-length mirror,
and I told myself out loud
how beautiful I was.
How I was too good for them.
How I was a nice fucking person
who deserved a man like Carl
and a hairless French vagina.
And then I just started
to get undressed.
Mm first my dress,
then my underwear,
'til I just stood there
stark buck naked,
wearing nothing but a smile
and her painful pointy shoes.
And I think I must have been
very drunk,
and I must have dozed off,
because next thing you know,
I am awoken by this
God almighty scream.
"Why are you in our bed?
"Why are you naked?
Out of my shoes!"
And, obviously, all
the screaming woke up Tyler,
who just stood at
the top of the stairs
asking me what was wrong.
"Don't worry.
Everything's fine,"
I told him.
But Carl threw me
out of the house
and he hissed in my face,
"Don't you ever
come around here again.
"If I ever see you
so much as talk to Tyler,
I'm gonna call the police."
It was really humiliating.
There was such hatred
in his eyes,
and, like, he thought
I was a monster.
And so I never went back
after that.
And I don't think they ever
told Tyler what happened,
which is a good thing.
And it would break my heart
when he would come
running out to see me,
and I'd have to ignore him.
His sad little voice
calling over the fence,
"Jenny. Jenny, why don't you
like me anymore?"
I think I might have been
his only friend.
In many ways,
he was kind of mine.
And our two houses
share a driveway,
and still, now, to this day,
whenever I get home,
he comes running out to see me.
This little Spider-Man figurine
taps on my Alfa Romeo window.
I mean, it's kind of annoying,
actually,
'cause he's scratching
the glass.
I still masturbate over
the pointy shoes.
Woo!
I can't actually remember
what I'm waiting for.
Why the fuck am I here?
I just wish I could remember
how I got here.
I was at the party
but I wasn't drinking.
And there were so many
dull people
talking about
their dull children.
I remember one man
just showed me
an endless VR of
his son sleeping.
Since when did sleeping
become a spectator sport?
Just beige conversation
with beige people
eating beige food
and it was giving me
a stomachache,
so I went and I hid in
the downstairs bathroom.
It was quiet in there.
The hum of the fan
was like white noise,
and I let it wash over me
as I sat on the toilet
with my underwear
around my ankles.
It had been four weeks.
Four weeks of waiting.
I thought it had
finally worked this time.
I was five days late.
And I knew I would love her.
Because Tyler had shown me
that I was worthy of love.
And I didn't feel it inside me
this new missing piece.
You know, my body just told me.
My nipples were sore.
I had this weird
metallic taste in my mouth.
But, um
then I saw it on the tissue.
Blood.
So much blood.
The missing piece
I had been praying for
dead in my underwear.
You know, I don't even know
how long I was in there,
but somebody was
banging on the door,
and I didn't have
any stuff with me,
so I just ransacked
the cupboards,
but there wasn't anything.
I could just find
tissue paper and
I already blocked up the toilet
so I just
got out of there
as fast as I could,
and didn't make eye contact
with anyone in the line.
And I walked
straight over to the buffet,
and I poured myself
a large glass of Pinot Grigio.
And I downed it.
And then
I poured myself another,
and I kept knocking 'em back
until my heart
didn't hurt anymore,
until I couldn't hear
all the two-year-olds playing,
until I was numb and buzzied.
And then it was like
the party seemed
so much better then.
Like it was suddenly full of
possibilities.
I wanted to talk to people,
you know?
And I was mingling with
the crowd.
I was laughing and dancing.
I was being really funny.
I was being vivacious.
I I had this bottle of vodka
and I was just pouring it
into people's mouths.
And I could sense very clearly
that Colin was pressed.
So I dragged him
across the garden
over to the drinks.
"Colin needs a Bailey's!"
And I grabbed the bottle
out of the icy water,
but then, uh, it was,
like, slippery and cold.
And we fought over
the screw cap.
And the next thing,
we're on the floor.
Absolutely hysterical.
And I'm sloshing the Bailey's
all over his face.
And then people start shouting,
crowding around us.
And Lazlo's there, too,
like, his face is all red,
and he's saying,
"You're embarrassing yourself,
you need to go home."
And it's nasty.
And it's hostile.
A sea of angry faces.
And I can feel the shame
flushing my cheeks,
and, you know, I try to explain,
but everybody hates me.
People are pointing at me and
and then I could see
somebody laugh,
"And I think we're all
aware of the situation."
And I look down,
and then I see that
I bled through my dress.
And I just I
I just need to get out of there.
So I I push my way through
the barrier of bodies,
hot, salty tears
stinging my eyes.
And I just
I need to go home.
And I I know that
I shouldn't drive,
but it's only around the block.
So I stumbled into
my Alfa Romeo,
and I scan my retina
to start the ignition,
and I slam my foot hard
on the gas,
speeding away from
all of the pain.
And there's tears in my eyes
blurring my vision.
The humiliation there,
it's still in the car,
like an unwanted guest in
the passenger seat.
And the road seems distorted,
warped and unfamiliar,
but I know that
I'm nearly there,
so I cling onto
the steering wheel,
and as I swerve around the bend,
and I could see my driveway,
but I'm I'm gaining speed.
Flash of the mailbox.
I rub at my eyes.
I'm losing control.
But I slammed on the brakes,
but it just happened
all so fast,
the horrible impact
as I crashed.
And there's colors
and cracking and limbs.
And the Spider-Man figurine.
No!
No, I didn't.
I didn't do it.
Consciousness
upload almost complete.
Hey, Kev. She's ready for
cerebral extraction.
-Let's just make it quick.
I'm supposed to be on lunch.
I'm uploading her memories now.
It'll take, uh, 10 minutes.
Ah, shit.
You know who this is?
This is that kid killer.
Oh, shit, you're right.
I know she's a memory donor,
but who's gonna want
her memories?
-You'd be surprised.
Shame she didn't die
in that crash.
Coma feels too easy.
Know what? Fuck it.
I'm taking lunch now.
Gonna let her sit in that
memory a little longer.
Hey, any idea
what soup it is today?