Californication s06e03 Episode Script

Previously on Californication: This better not be an intervention.
You gotta get your ass to rehab.
Why are you here? Why are you wasting our time? Maybe you're just an asshole.
Your friend Charlie said you drank your own urine.
Hank Moody.
Is that Atticus Fetch? Let's make a fucking masterpiece.
What do you say? Are you high right now? It was an incredible opportunity.
- I didn't want to miss out.
- When can you start? I have the job? What do you do in the real world? I traverse the globe in the company of musicians.
- You're a groupie.
- I prefer "muse.
" I woke up with the most gifted guitar player, but he was dead.
Do you want to get high? Look, could I stand to lose a few pounds? Sure, I'm a big boy, I get it.
But addicted to food? That's just fucking gay.
Gay, man.
No offense, but it's gay.
I eat because I like the taste.
If I didn't like the taste of it, I wouldn't eat it.
You know what I'm talking about, sweetheart, right? But wasn't a trip to the emergency room what brought you here? Chest pains? Bullshit.
That was a panic attack, not a heart attack.
It was a panic attack brought on by that shrill voice of that fucking mother of mine: "You're too fat.
You're gonna die.
You're too fucking fat to do anything.
You're too fat to work the snow blower.
" Fuck her.
She's the reason I'm in here, you understand? They took an EKG on me, all right? I got the heart of a teenager.
A morbidly obese teenager.
Come on.
Don't be so sensitive.
Faith.
Do you know what time it is? It's time to get real.
Share with us.
Well as many of you know the other day I woke up next to a guy I was pretty fucking fond of, and he was dead.
So tears were shed, boos were fucking hoo'd and it sucks to be me.
- And that led to the drugs and alcohol.
- No, not really.
Been on pretty good terms with drugs and alcohol.
Hallelujah! Preach on, sister.
You know what I think, Faith? I think you need to go and say good-bye to this man.
Too late.
Funeral's happening as we speak.
Then you should be there.
That would be a pretty serious breach of groupie etiquette.
Well, not healing thyself, that's a serious breach of human etiquette.
Bibles of truth, Gabe.
As-salaam alaikum, my brother.
I'm sorry.
You should go, Faith.
Pay your respects.
Say goodbye.
The weight will lift off your chest and you will be able to soar again.
That's all well and good, it really is but I can't just show up there all alone.
I mean, the chick who rolls up solo to a funeral is usually the one who was fucking the dead guy.
Hey, the answer is yes, sweetheart.
I'll be your date, any time.
Here's the thing.
Can we stop by an In-N-Out Burger on the way? I'm fucking famished.
- Hank? - Yes, Gabe? - I think that you should go with Faith.
- Oh, gosh.
I would totally love to, but funerals kind of bum me out.
It would be a good test to go out into the real world, see if you can stay sober.
- I don't see why I would.
- Well, I think you should try.
Tell me the truth, Gabe.
You just want me out of your hair for the day, is that right? - Yes.
- That shit is cold.
I'm just saying.
Fuck sticks.
I guess a field trip does sound kind of good to me right about now.
Okay.
Can I bring anything back for you damaged fuckers? Some coke? Some heroin? Some Pink Dot? If you go to Pink Dot, get me some bonbons or a double dog.
And don't tease me, pretty boy.
I'll fucking lay you out, right? Nothing.
Man-on-man sex is intriguing, yes, but not arousing.
That's very interesting.
It's it's It's okay, Charlie.
It was bound to happen sooner or later, buddy.
It's okay, I support you.
In fact, I am proud of you.
No, Hank, no.
I was just I was testing myself because I'm in a pickle, Hank.
It's a big, gay pickle.
I'm sure it is, my bald bromosexual and I support you no matter how many dudes you plow.
I just gotta grab a suit.
- What are you doing out of rehab? - I got a funeral.
- What? Who died? - A guy I was seeing.
Faith, Charlie.
Charlie, Faith.
Charlie is my bald, gay agent.
Lovely to meet you, Faith.
I'm truly sorry for your loss.
I'm not gay.
Is there anything I can do? No.
Thank you, Charlie.
That's very sweet.
It's true what they say.
Gay men are more sensitive.
Gonna need the Porsche too.
But I've got a big, gay meeting today.
I believe funeral trumps big, gay Hollywood meeting - don't you think? - Depends whose funeral, I think.
- Dead rock star.
- Oh, okay.
Yeah.
Sorry.
Take the car.
Thanks, Charlie.
Now you can get back to your gay porn.
Oh, yeah.
- Hey.
- Hey.
- Is Krull around? - That depends.
Are you on the list? Most definitely not, my good sir, but Krull, the tour manager should be around.
- He'll vouch for me - Sure, sure.
But maybe I can vouch for you.
Maybe we can make this whole thing beneficial for both of us.
I mean, I want to get it in, you want in, How bad you want it? Talk to me.
Really, dude? At a funeral? Have you no shame? Are we gonna go behind a tombstone? You believe this fucking guy? - I won't suck his dick to get you in there.
- Don't knock it till you try it.
- Blowjobs open doors.
- Bitch.
Okay, you know what? Move it along, groupie, and take him with you.
You watch your tongue, you filthy mongrel.
This is Faith.
All right? Have a look and grasp the cosmic importance of this lovely, young lady.
Without her there'd be no rock 'n' roll.
Get it? Got it? Good, now, fuck off, fatty.
Krull, come here.
Thank you, you're the best.
Anything for you, love.
Who's the civilian? Hank.
Krull, Hank.
Krull.
Right on.
- Good to meet you.
- One dead rock star now we're dating geezers from the real world? Does he look like he's from the real world? And do I look like I date? He's a friend.
- Frenemy, really.
- Yeah.
What you doing here? You're not playing nice.
I came to pay my respects.
I love you, babe, I really do, but you know what I mean? It's inappropriate, you being here.
It's his old lady.
Come on, Krull, I'll be in and out.
No monkey business, I promise.
Please, don't make me beg.
- You promise.
- Scout's honor.
- All right.
Kruller, coming through.
- Not you, pal.
All right, no plus one.
Good night.
Good night.
Hello, hello.
Kiss on the head.
Gotta say, Charlie, I don't know how I feel about my new agent showing up in a cab.
Sorry, sorry.
The Porsche is in the shop.
Don't worry.
Charlie will get a big raise.
He'll be able to afford a second car.
- I'm getting a raise? - You bet, buddy.
Partners talked about it.
You're going places, Dorothy.
- I got a question for you.
- Yeah, what's that? How many dicks have you sucked today? Sadly, it has been a dick-free day thus far.
Charlie.
Doesn't have to be that way.
- Have you tried Grindr? - I don't believe I have.
You'd know.
It's an app.
Here, give me your phone.
It's amazing, Charlie.
It uses your GPS.
Anywhere you are, you can find a guy who's ready to fuck.
Steve Jobs.
Respect.
There you go.
You're all set.
You're the "Bald Bear.
" Great.
Okay, Robbie.
You're clean, you're sober, let's get you back in the game, huh? Let's remind this town how fucking good you really are.
All right, I got three scripts here.
Any one of them would be a killer move.
This one, a remake of Cruising.
- That's an interesting idea.
- It's a fucking hot idea is what it is.
Script gave me a raging boner.
Me too.
There you go.
Your first dick of the day.
- What? - Go for it.
You deserve it.
No, no, no.
I'm good, I'm good, yeah.
See, I just beat off this morning.
Yeah, should carry me right through lunch.
Charlie, would you rather beat off or get your dick sucked by a 21-year-old who just skipped out of Crunch? - I see your point.
- Charlie, I insist.
The client insists, Charlie.
Now, go get your dick sucked by a stranger.
Miss you, broheme.
I got the feeling this is the kind of shindig you would dig, you know? Howdy.
Howdy yourself.
I'm the widow.
Shitness.
My condolies, and whatnot.
I'm Hank.
- How do you know my husband? - I didn't.
I didn't.
I'm here with a friend and visiting with another friend.
- You know what the weird thing is, Frank? - Hank.
My husband's dead and I'm numb.
- It's not so weird.
- I just want to feel something.
- You know? Anything.
- It's understandable.
I'm going through a similar thing.
- I totally understand - Shut up.
You'll do.
Have you got a few minutes, Frank? - Well - Because I'd really love to gob your knob.
Well, anything in your time of need.
Come on.
Look at this.
Hello.
Brilliant.
Hey.
Hey.
Could you? Could you give us a few minutes here? - What the fuck, dude? - Can you give me a few minutes? - All right, it's your field trip too.
- Come here, come here.
It was very nice to meet you.
- So nice to meet you.
Brilliant.
- I'm so sorry for your loss.
Not as sorry as I am, my love.
Apparently, he is not as sorry as I am.
You.
- Me? - You look familiar.
- I don't believe we've met.
- No, I don't believe we have.
You were on the road with him, weren't you? Oh, you mean big Dave in lighting? - Yeah, well, you know, Bingo Starr.
- Give me a break.
You're way too hot for the lighting guy.
Well, thank you.
No, I remember you.
I remember, the record company threw some kind of a party.
Was it Greenville? Maybe, I don't remember.
But you were sort of hanging around.
There was entirely way too much eye contact - between the two of you.
- I don't know what you're talking about.
He was never gonna leave me, you know.
Ever.
Well, wasn't gonna write a song about you, either.
Is that what he told you? That he wrote a song about you? How cute! What was that ballad from his last record, Frank? Help me.
I never listen to What was it? "Faith"? I bet you think that song's about you, don't you? - Guess I'm just that vain.
- Faith.
Oh, boy.
Listen, it's all just rock 'n' roll, right? You think I give a fuck about all his road whores? I'm the one he came home to.
Thought they had an understanding.
Sorry, I just I may not be a nun, but I'm no whore.
Keep telling yourself that, sweetie.
And by the way, our bulldog's name is Faith.
Fuck.
You know, all things considered, that could've gone a lot worse.
Fuck.
God, the last thing I wanted to do was upset her, and - I know.
- Just seeing him all laid out like that it's just too much, you know? He even had on this necklace.
His cross.
It was my favorite, and he knew it.
He gave it to me the night before he died.
I got rushed out of there.
I didn't take it with me.
Now it's gone forever.
That's the problem with this open casket shit.
In what universe is seeing a dead person a good thing? Shit is fucked up.
- Come on, let's just get out of here.
- Back to rehab.
Really? No, I need a drink, maybe ten, then back to rehab.
Hold on, hold on, hold on.
- What are you doing? - Something idiotic, I'm sure.
If I'm not back in ten minutes, blow someone to find me.
Right on, Bald Bear.
- Let's do this.
- Hold on a second.
Hold on a second.
Hold on a second.
I have a confession to make.
I'm not really a homosexual man.
So you wanna play this straight? That's your game? Whatever, dude, I just wanna get my dick sucked.
As you should.
I totally understand, and you're entitled.
I'm pro-gay.
I'm pro-sexuality in any form, any form.
And I really respect and admire the way you guys are using technology to get your rocks off in the middle of the day.
But me, myself, I'm not gay.
I just I got myself in the middle of a huge misunderstanding.
Huge.
- "Misunderstanding.
" - Don't do that.
Yes, I sort of led a prospective client to believe I was gay because that's what he was looking for in an agent.
He wanted a "gaygent.
" So you're pretending to be gay for career advancement? That's really offensive, dude.
Robbie Mac is a brave man.
He's one of the first fully-out movie stars.
I know.
He's incredible.
A real trailblazer.
What if I marched out there and told him what you just told me? What if I paid you not to? Forgive me, father, for I am about to purloin some shit off a dead man.
What the fuck do you think you're doing? I'm just paying respects to a fallen hero.
- You kissed him.
- Yeah, I was overcome with emotion.
He was my best friend.
A childhood mate.
If anyone's gonna plant lips on him, it should be me, or his wife.
Yeah, you're right, it was a miscalculation.
Wait a second.
You're that cheeky fucker who threw up all over my baby grand and ruined my cocaine, the writer - who's not a fan of mine.
- Well - What the fuck are you doing here? - I'm a big fan.
- Big fan.
- So you're a fan of his but not of mine? He's a brilliant fucking guitar player.
And I'm not brilliant in my own regard? Do you have any idea how hard it is to be a front man? The pressure that's on me to entertain millions of working-class citizens and constantly reinvent myself and maintain my beautiful - Everything okay? - Yeah, it's peachy.
- It's peachy.
- This arrogant fucking wanker - is trying to bugger our dead friend.
- Maybe we should bugger him.
- I don't think anybody should bugger - This is my fault.
He was just trying to get my necklace back.
You're stealing from a dead man? - Technically, yes.
- No.
Tony gave it to me, okay? - It's the only thing he ever gave me.
- Faith, you need to hit the road, love.
Wait a second.
This is Faith? - Yes.
- It is a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart.
Tony talked about you all the time.
He said you had an uncanny ability to suck killer riffs out of him.
What the fuck is this skanky skank still doing here? - I was just leaving.
- Good! No, he can stay.
- Ladies, ladies.
- He can stay.
- It's big enough for both of you.
- She should stay too.
If she insists on staying then I insist on kicking her in the fucking cunt! In the fucking cunt! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! Oh, no! My head! Stop it! Stop it! No! Come on, it's time.
It's time.
Hello, Los Angeles.
If you're seeing me in this bad-ass holographic form.
That means I must be dead which totally sucks for me, but I don't want any of you good people feeling sorry for me.
I've had a great fucking life.
I want to thank you all for coming out to celebrate my untimely demise.
I leave you with this: Come here, baby.
Come here.
I'm sorry I was such a bitch.
No, God, I'm so sorry I fucked your husband.
- It's rock 'n' roll, right? - Yeah, yeah.
It's not the dope talking, but I still really dig your writing, man.
Thank you.
Yeah, thanks.
You really gotta check out some of my earlier stuff.
There's some good shit on there.
Before everything got so fucking polished.
Fucking Pro Tools.
That dead man there was my best friend.
We met when we were 5 years old.
We used to go around to his mum and dad's after school and wear out their copy of Exile on Main Street.
One day he showed me his penis.
It was alarmingly big for a 5-year-old.
He told me when he grew up he wanted to be a rock 'n' roll star and bugger me if he didn't grow up and do just that.
So before we put that fucker in the ground I'd like to play you one of his favorite songs.
After that, you're all invited back to my place.
We'll consume narcotics, and listen to Exile, and Get our penises out in honor of our fallen comrade.
You don't seem nearly as fucked up as everybody else here.
I was tempted to partake, but it seems like the kind of night where you need to feel everything.
Even if it hurts so bad you want to tear your fucking skin off.
I hear that, pretty lady.
Oh, shit, I almost forgot.
This means so much.
Thank you.
Thank you.
So what now? Back to rehab? - Yeah.
- Yeah? Just to pick up my stuff.
I think it's time to come back to life.
Road beckons.
- Another project awaits.
- Really? Project? Yeah.
They're my projects.
Yeah, I see a spark, a flash of true genius and I have to help.
I want them to be the very best they can be.
You sound like quite the patron of the arts.
It's what I do.
- How about yourself? - What about me? What's next? I suppose I should write something.
Sit my ass in a chair.
The chair beckons.
Good for you.
Right, because it's just that easy.
Have a little faith, Hank.
Hank Moody, get up off your ass and come with me.
I'm gonna play you the greatest song ever written in the history of the universe.
After which, we shall snort cocaine and have our assholes tongued by the angels.
Okay, hi.
Good morning, gorgeous.
Yes, please.
I'd love some.
Some what? Some of your delicious Girl Scout cookies.
No, I'm not that.
- I'm here to see Natalie.
Yeah.
- Natalie, Natalie Natalie is my wife.
Natalie took the children to school.
Natalie said, "Let the new designer in.
" That's me.
What Natalie failed to say is how absolutely fucking, smokingly, gorgeous you are.
- I'm gonna go, and then - You're gonna come in.
I'm incredibly interested in what your plans are for the interior of my home.
Could you put some clothes on? Why would I put some clothes on? This is the way the baby Jesus made me.
That's nice.
I'm joking.
Come on, I'll dig up some trousers.
Are you a fan of mine? As I am of yours.
You could I don't know.
You attached? Excuse me? Are you spoken for? Do you have a lover? Or many lovers? There are no wrong answers here, only arousing ones.
- Do you know that fucker? - Yeah.
I know this fucker.
This fucker is supposed to be in rehab right now.
That fucker was about a million miles away from rehab last night.
We shared an eight ball, among other things.
We spoke of hopes and dreams, of what the world needs now.
I played him a song inspired by his "magnus opum" a song about the healing power of sex and love and rock 'n' roll.
He said it sounded like a pit bull raping a small, deaf child.
I don't think he meant it as a compliment! No, he can be a tough critic that way.
Stop kicking me.
What? - Karen, what the fuck? - Hey, you stole my line.
No, then it must be a sign.
It appears that I've had a relapse of some sort.
I've been tested and found severely lacking and I should probably go back to rehab posthaste.
You think maybe you give me a ride? Probably get myself Well, maybe Maybe just a few more winks.
I was having the nicest dream.
I was on a beach somewhere with you and God was marrying us, and you turned into a mermaid and I couldn't find your vagina, and your hair was covering your breasts which was kind of pissing me off, and then someone was kicking me.
He's fine.
It's cocaine-induced dementia, there's nothing to worry about.
He just needs his beauty sleep.
In the meantime, would you like to hear a song that I penned about the problems in the Sudan? I'd really appreciate your take.