Californication s04e03 Episode Script

Previously on Californication Come here, bubby.
Get the fuck outta here, Hank, before Becca comes home, OK? I'd like to see her.
Do you want to have to look her in the eye and tell her that you put your dick in a girl that's the same age that she is right now? The DA's office is willing to drop the assault charges.
- That's the good news.
- What's the bad news? You're being charged with statutory rape.
Considering that you actually wrote the book that I love, how about you rewrite the script that I loathe? With Sasha's interest, we could be at Sundance this time next year.
All for a stupid, fuckin' movie.
What are you gonna do? Get a real job? So is there a script? - Fuck no.
- But he's getting close.
Hopefully it'll give you a sizeable boner when I'm done.
Harder.
It doesn't have to be this hard, Becca.
Shouldn't it be hard? I mean, isn't that pretty much what happens after the final straw? Becca hates me, Charlie.
She'll get over it, buddy boy.
Morning, sunshine.
First day of the rest of your life.
Up and at 'em.
Rise and shine, and give God your glory.
Oh, fuckness.
Yeah, having your stomach pumped will do that to you.
Sorry I can't keep you any longer.
That's a shame.
I was just beginning to acclimate.
You're obviously not crazy.
Obviously.
Do yourself a favour.
Stay away from the drugs.
I don't like the drugs, Doc.
The drugs like me.
Cute, clever.
Live fast, die young, good-looking corpse.
Guess what, asshole.
There's no such thing as a good-looking corpse.
I see a lot of them, and they're fucking ugly as shit, and they smell like shit too.
You wanna know why? Because there's literally shit oozing out of every goddamn hole.
So keep it up, chuckles, and I'll be seeing you again real soon.
- Bye now, bye-bye.
- Fuck.
Hey.
Oh, my Lord.
They must have given me too much morphine, because I am hallucinating.
How are you? How are you feeling? Like I've been rode wet and put away hard.
I hear that.
- Morning, Hank.
- Morning, Marv.
How's it hanging? - Oh, Lord.
- Oh, my God.
Oh, man.
Wait.
Whoa.
Hey.
Are you for real or is this your avatar? Will you stop asking me that? You didn't have to give me the bed.
I would have taken the couch, the floor, anything.
Shut up.
Are you OK? - Do you need anything? - God damn.
You're just being so nice, it's like I died and went to heaven after all.
Sit down.
The doctor said you need to rest.
No, I'm fine.
I'm good, I'm good.
- I'll sleep when I'm dead.
- That's not funny.
- Dead tired.
- Not funny.
- A little funny? - Not really.
Maybe you're right.
Too soon? Yeah.
I'll try again after lunch.
Hank.
- I was scared.
- I know, baby.
I thought you were gonna die.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.
I mean, I was so busy being mad at you, I had no idea how much pain you were in.
Well, it ain't easy being me.
You've always been able to laugh it off and find humour in the most fucked-up situations.
So for you for you to want to go and kill yourself, I mean, you must have been in agony, and I just didn't I mean, however furious I am with you even when I hate your fucking guts at least I know you're out there, that I'm gonna see you again.
Honey.
I didn't mean to force moisture from your face.
And I'm glad you feel that way.
- But I gotta be honest.
- What? What? I love you.
And I'm sorry for everything.
Just don't do that again, OK? I mean, no matter how bad it gets, you call me, you text me, you Skype me, you tweet me, you can fucking Facebook me, I don't care.
I just Nothing should be that bad, OK? - You promise? - Well, texting is for faggots, but I promise.
Good.
No.
No, no, no.
No, no, no.
Fuck.
OK.
You're a cheap date, you know that? Well, when you come perilously close to shucking off this mortal coil, you realise what's important.
A burger, fries, a nice cold root beer to wash it down.
Priorities.
Karen thinks I tried to kill myself.
Well, you did leave a suicide note.
It was a letter, douche bag.
A letter to Becca.
I was just putting my thoughts in order when I was rudely interrupted by the ill effects of self-medicating.
Hey, I'm just glad you have the impulse to write something.
Don't.
Don't you dare.
Don't ask.
I have to.
It's my job.
- So how's it coming? - Just get me out of it, Charlie.
I can't focus on a stupid fucking screenplay right now.
I can't do that.
Stu's been calling.
- Stu? - The producer.
He's paying you out of his own pocket.
Did you know that? - I haven't seen any money.
- It's tied up with the attorneys.
Perfect.
No harm, no foul.
Then we're even.
That's it, I'm out.
It doesn't work that way.
He needs a good script.
A good script attracts talent.
Talent attracts money.
You write a good script, and they will come - all over your face, baby.
Jesus.
I'm nauseous.
You know what's weird? I'm horny as fuck.
No, seriously, I beat off twice this morning.
OK, fine.
I made love to myself.
Christ on a stick, Karen, what is it about talking about masturbation that freaks you out so much? You know you love to flick that bean of yours! You do! Fuck you, don't hang up.
Runkle! Runkle! Where are you, Runkle? Hey, is this Runkle's house? - Who's asking? - Where is that slippery son of a bitch? - Is he inside? - Who the fuck are you? Sorry.
Stu Beggs.
Nice to meet you.
Marcy.
Pleasure.
You're the wife? - Soon to be ex.
- Interesting.
What's so interesting about it? So where is he? I left word with him, like, a dozen times, and the shiny fuck is not returning my calls.
I don't know where the fuck he is.
Lunch with a client probably.
- Moody? - How'd you guess? Well, as far as I know, Runkle only has one client.
You're way too hot for him, by the way.
Thanks.
I always thought so.
Didn't stop him from waving his thin, bent wang at anything that bleeds, though.
Well, you know what they say.
No matter how gorgeous the gal, there's always some fella that's tired of banging her.
Well, you know what I say.
No matter how bald the fella, there's always some gal who's tired of dealing with his erectile dysfunction.
You want to grab a drink sometime? - With you? - Yes.
Who else is asking? I don't know, Stu.
Life is mucho complicado right now, Stu.
I'm kind of in the final death throes of a marriage and the last days of escrow, and And what? What? And you remind me of Charlie, physically.
- I'm just saying.
- Oh, God! Do I have anything left? I mean, I'm checking.
You're like his fucking doppelganger, Stu.
You're all bald and pear-shaped and shit.
It's really kind of creeping me out.
You know, Marcy, that all may be true, but I'm also rich as fuck and hung like a moose.
- OK.
- Yeah.
Come on.
Let's pay up.
Don't listen and not pay, come on.
Don't be cheap.
Let's There we go.
Sounded great, honey.
What you saving up for? - A place of my own.
- Cool.
Where? - The Valley.
- Oh, dear.
Why? - Cheap rent.
- Got ya.
But you know, I bet your mom would be happy to keep a roof over your head and maybe even give you three squares a day.
And then you can save your money and spend it on cool stuff, like booze and smokes.
Yeah, I don't laugh as easily as I used to.
Don't I know it.
Guess things aren't as funny as they used to be.
We're gonna have to work on that, sweetheart.
Is everything OK? Is there anything you want to talk about? I know I must have given you a pretty big scare, honey.
Honey? Nope, I'm good.
Better get back at it.
Plenty of day left.
Yeah.
OK, well, you mind if I just sit here and watch and listen and be your groupie? I'd prefer you didn't.
It makes me freeze up.
- Gotta stay loose.
- That's cool.
Well, you you stay loose, little lady.
I know, I know, Stu.
I'm sorry.
I've been dodging you.
You know this.
But I've now spoken to Hank.
It's OK.
Runkle, Runkle, relax.
Have a drink.
Throw some peanuts down your gob.
Love me some peanuts.
You're in a good mood today.
I thought you were gonna ream me a new asshole.
I was.
- I went by your house today.
- You did? Jesus! - I met the wife.
- Yeah, soon to be ex.
- That's what she said.
- She loves to say that.
She's a saucy little minx, that one.
That's one way to put it.
- So you guys are done? - Pretty much, yeah.
Pretty much? - Pretty much? - No We're we're we're done.
Kaput.
Splitsville.
So you wouldn't mind if I took a crack at her? - Say what? - If I asked her out? Well in theory, no.
But it might complicate our working relationship.
Yeah.
I don't see why it has to.
Hi, sorry I'm late.
Charlie Runkle, Heather Tracy.
Heather heads up development for my company, and I figured you two guys should meet.
So nice to meet you, Charlie.
You're a legend.
- Excuse me for a second.
- Right on.
Hello.
She is a sure thing.
- DTF.
- DT what? She's a good-timer.
Down To Fuck.
I figured I owed you one.
If I was gonna make a pass at your ex, and you were going to be kind enough not to cockblock me, then it's only right I offer up something in return.
Here she comes.
Hey, don't fuck it up.
So where were we? DTF.
I like a nice beet, huh? It's like nature's treat, isn't it? Sure beats that hospital food.
Shit, that was bad.
I'd rather tongue a sweaty bunghole than force-feed another forkful of that pap down my gullet.
Shouldn't she be home by now? Can we go look for her, please? Now.
Can we? - Please? - OK.
Thank you.
Well, well, what do we have here? - Not bad, not bad.
- We got a guitar player.
Hey! Run! Hey! - Stop! - Oh, my god.
- Here, let me help you up.
- Give it back! Give it! Settle down there, Tyson.
Here, take your fucking money back.
Jesus, we were just fucking around.
Just fucking around? What if I hadn't caught you? Then we would have enjoyed the fruits of your mad skills.
- Yeah, you're pretty good.
- For a girl.
Thanks, I guess.
- Are you in a band? - Nope.
Well, we're in a band.
- I sing.
- Guitar.
- Bass.
- Drums.
We could actually use a lead guitarist, you know, for that Eddie Van Halen shit.
You should try out.
Try out? After you just tried to rob me? Big fucking deal.
Haven't you ever done anything stupid just for fun? Look, consider it a test.
You passed.
What do you guys call yourselves? Queens Of Dogtown.
Look, check out our Myspace.
Maybe we'll let you audition.
Crazy! Fuck.
- Can I ask you a question? - Sure.
As long as it's not about sex.
- You're fucking - Why - That's it, right? That's all you - Why didn't you two just go to New York? Well, it wouldn't have been fair, would it? I mean, this is what she knows now.
You know, this is her life, so Besides, even if we had gone, we'd have had to turn straight back for this latest piece of drama.
I'll tell you why.
- Because you care.
That's why.
- Of course I care.
I've always cared.
That's like People who care, I mean, they don't get to live happily ever after.
It's Brings us to the six-million-dollar question.
Do you think we still have a chance? - Hank.
- What? - Honestly? - No, no, not honestly.
Lie to me.
I don't know.
I mean, if you'd asked me that a week ago, I would have said no, no way, no fucking way, never.
Yeah, I hear you.
But now that the whole life and death thing has reared its ugly head, I don't know.
I don't know.
- That's fair enough.
- You know what? Why don't you go home and see if she's there? And I'm gonna keep looking.
And if she's not, then just rest up, you know? - You sure? - Yeah.
She never goes this long without an internet fix anyway, so Go home.
I love it when you use that word.
Home.
Can you say it again? - It's never gonna be the same, Hank.
- I know.
Go home.
- You're pretty hard right now.
- Sure I am.
Nice work, soldier.
I aim to please.
- Can I be honest with you? - Please do, please do.
You're way hairy down there.
Oh, OK.
- Good to know.
- Yeah, you should probably consider - a little man-scaping.
- Really? That's not - gay? - Oh, no.
No! No, not at all.
Girls my age appreciate a lack of hair down south.
Who wants a mouthful of pubes when you're sucking on balls? Sure, sure.
Makes sense.
I can't believe the development girl is giving me notes on my dick.
Hey, do you want to try it from behind? Absolutely.
That's my favourite.
- Me too.
- Right? - 'Cause it gets your spot, right? - Right, yes.
That and I can multitask.
The emails just really pile up if you don't get to them right away.
- Sure, makes sense.
- Hop on back here.
- You all right back there? - Yeah, yeah.
Just, um You mind if we switch it up, maybe change positions? Eell, I'm in the middle of an email, so if you could just keep going back there.
Yeah, sure.
No No problem.
Great.
Oh, yeah.
Sorry.
Just From behind really does it for me sometimes.
No worries.
I take it as a compliment.
Do you want me to you know, finish you off down there? Nah.
I've got, like, five scripts to read.
I'll never be able to focus.
I'm gonna go, OK? But we should totally do this again sometime.
Sure, why not? Hey.
How are you? I'm fine.
Did you finally make enough to move out? My guitar was stolen, and my amp.
Shit, honey, what happened? Doesn't matter.
Needed new stuff anyway.
Case closed, moving on.
Guess you should've let me buy you that guitar the other day.
- Your credit card wouldn't go through.
- Shit, that's right.
Well, I am sorry about your guitar, sweetie.
I'll get you a new one.
Don't bother.
- Just take care of yourself.
- I'm trying.
And I'm sorry about what I put you through lately.
Oh, you are? Awesome.
Are you just sorry about lately or my whole life? Actually, what aren't you sorry about? Are you sorry about being such a fucking coward? - Where are you going with this, sweetie? - Don't "sweetie" me.
You always talk about how much you love me and mom and how we're everything to you.
If that's true, how could you give up on us so easily? Only a fucking coward would check out like that.
- That's no way to talk to your father.
- My father? My father wouldn't try to kill himself.
He wouldn't do something like that to me.
So where's this father you're talking about? Where is he? Because I sure don't see him around here any more.
You're right.
I wouldn't do that.
I didn't.
OK? Come on, look at me.
I just needed a decent night's sleep.
I drank a little too much, and I took a few too many pills.
I screwed up yet again.
But I would never, ever give up on you like that.
Do you understand me? Now tell her that.
What? - Tell her what you just told me.
- Becca.
What? It's nothing.
She's upset.
Tell her what you said so she doesn't have the wrong idea.
What's she talking about? You know what, I think we should all just chill.
Chillax, really.
You know, I'm calling a time-out.
- Hank.
- He didn't try to kill himself.
He just fucked up again.
- What? - Was I trying to numb the pain? - Yeah, sure.
- What are you saying? I was drinking heavily and I miscalculated.
So what are you saying, that you partied too hard and then you passed out, just like any other day ending in "y"? That it was all just a stupid, big mistake? In a word, yes.
How could you let me I mean, how could you do that? How could I not? You were being so nice to me.
It was like a dream come true.
I thought I was home again.
But it was a fucking lie! Hey, just because I wasn't suicidal then doesn't mean I'm not suicidal now.
I would keep me away from cutlery if I were you.
I'm feeling pretty fucking fragile.
Get out, OK? Just get the fuck out! It was more romantic when you thought I wanted to kill myself? - How fucked up is that? - It's completely fucked up, which is why I can't be around you any more! You're fucking toxic, Hank.
Look, I know I've done something that makes it impossible for you to live with me, but I can't keep apologising for something I can't change.
All I can do is keep moving forward and try to become someone that you can love again.
Well, good luck with that.
Way to go, Dad.
Now I have to listen to her cry all night again.