Black Butterfly Page #2

The weather, man.

They always get it wrong.

Well, we are

close to my place,

and I got a guest room.

You can use it for the night,

have a hot shower.

Look, don't feel like

you owe me, okay?

Ah, it's the least I can do.

I would be in the hospital

without you back there.

Appreciate it.

Here we are.

You like it?

Yeah, I like it.

Good.

You must have

sold a lot of books.

- I did all right.

- Hey, let me help you.

Take that bag.

Nice kill.

Well, I can be a good shot

if I do say so myself.

Uh... it is messed up.

You gotta be careful.

There...

All right.

Sorry, maid's day off.

You have a maid?

Uh... no.

Not anymore.

Probably working for my ex.

Is that a joke?

Let me show you to your room.

Ah, f***. Hang on.

Yeah, watch your step.

My wife made me

put these safety bolts

on all windows.

She was scared, you know.

- Of what?

- I don't know.

Isolation?

All right. Here we are.

Bathroom is over there,

and it has a shower.

Sheets and towels in the closet.

Thanks, Paul.

Yeah, make

yourself comfortable.

Uh-huh.

You have cleaned up.

You hungry?

- Good morning.

- Good morning.

- The water is freezing.

- Yeah, it is.

- Makes you feel alive.

- Could just pinch yourself.

Thanks for breakfast.

I noticed that this door

has to be completely reframed.

Now, I found a few

spare planks outside,

but I'm gonna be able to fix that

before i leave this afternoon.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

You don't have to fix anything.

- Paul, I want to.

- I'm moving.

I need to sell this place.

Why would you

give all this up?

Because I can't

afford to stay.

You know,

can't sell any of my work.

Besides, there's nothing

left for me here.

Not without my wife.

I can help you.

- No.

- No, really. I mean, it's not that much work.

- I could have it done in maybe, uh, three days.

- Jack.

- Perhaps a little bit longer.

- Jack, I can't pay you.

- Come on.

- Don't worry about it.

I'll do the cooking, deal?

Your wife?

Ah, it's the last

picture of her,

before she left me.

You know, I should clean

this place up too, right?

No, no.

I like it like this.

Thank you.

You write these?

Mm.

El ultimo hombre.

Yeah, the last man.

Hm.

Right.

Phone is still not working.

No Internet.

Paul, f*** it.

- Yeah.

- You don't need 'em.

Yeah.

Anyway, I thought a writer

would actually appreciate

being cut off from the world.

You know?

The seclusion.

Be able to get some work

done, no distractions.

Well, the irony is that we are

always looking for

a distraction.

Procrastination,

writers thrive on it.

This stew is excellent.

Thank you.

So... tomorrow I'm gonna

start working the shed.

Needs a new coat of paint.

And there's some tiles on

your roof that need fixing.

You'll never have time to do

all that in three days, Jack.

I said it might take a

little bit longer, didn't I?

Right.

I don't mean to pry, but,

don't you writers

make a good living?

Well, that depends

on the writer.

What kind of writer are you?

I had my first novel published,

uh, when I was 25.

My first bestseller

before I turned 30,

and critics really liked me.

They liked me a lot, so you

know, the word got around,

and suddenly, well,

this American literary agent

flew out to meet me in Madrid,

and he said that the

studios were interested,

eh, to adapt, some of

my books to the screen.

And so, for all my sins,

I signed with him.

So he sold the book, and uh,

they got me to write

the screenplay,

and suddenly out of

the blue, you know,

they forgot

the agreement, entirely.

And they gave it to

somebody else to write.

So they kicked you

out of your own movie?

Can't get any worse

than that, I guess.

Oh, yes, it can.

It can.

The worst part is that

they did make the movie,

and the only thing left

of my book was the title.

Yep.

I married the

woman of my dreams, I had money,

an apartment in the

Wilshire corridor,

you know, tons of needy friends,

and it all went away.

Even the woman.

We're all free men.

We choose what we want.

You did this to yourself.

Well, no, all i

choose was this place.

I told my wife it

would help, you know,

I needed isolation to write

and th... that was my sacrifice!

All writing is sacrifice.

You know,

in most movies I see,

the characters are

just what they are,

characters in a movie.

Nothing seems real.

Nothing is like how

life really is.

I don't disagree.

Maybe it's just

'cause I travel a lot.

You know, I watch what's

going on around me.

I watch people.

I'm not a recluse.

Must be it.

You know...

I'd really like to read

one of your scripts.

If that wouldn't be a problem.

Okay.

- Yeah?

- Yeah, I'll...

All right, this is

the last one I wrote.

My hail Mary pass

to get something sold.

Nobody wants it.

My agent says it's crap.

Under the clock.

Yeah.

I think I've

heard this title before.

Even the title, then. Hah!

Yeah.

I'll tell you what.

I'll give you the opinion

of the common man.

It's gotta count

for something, right?

It counts

for more than my agent's.

Yeah, yes, enjoy it, man.

Good afternoon.

How was your nap?

Not good. Not good.

- Delias kristianiae.

- Huh?

Black butterfly, from Indonesia.

Very rare.

Very hard to catch.

- Ironic, really.

- Ironic?

Yeah, I had it done in prison.

You looking for these?

I needed to work on the shed,

i had to unlock it.

You gonna work today?

No... I'm not in the

right frame of mind,

and I have to sell this house.

Hard to work when you

got to worry about money.

You know you have to

do yourself a favor.

Eh? And what is that?

You know...

You have to stop drinking.

I mean, you gotta stop it cold.

Ai-yi-yi-yi.

- You could be a great writer.

- Oh.

But your stories

are not good enough,

and it's because

of your drinking.

You know, I think you

just need a good idea

to jumpstart your career.

You know, I was thinking

this morning, I got an idea.

- Ah, of course you do.

- No, really.

I mean, I want you to hear it.

All right, look,

I know it'd be like god taking

advice from a lowly priest.

Ah, I am listening, yes.

All right.

Okay.

You tell our story.

- What story?

- Our story.

Okay, it goes like this.

A writer travels to the U.S.

looking for inspiration,

gets himself a beautiful house

in a remote area.

And so, uh...

He's had some success,

short-lived.

He can't write anymore,

so, uh, he drinks.

He's become an alcoholic.

And he lives like a recluse

to hide his decline.

So, this writer

goes into a diner.

He's got a...

A date with a pretty girl.

But today is not gonna

be his lucky day.

He gets into it with some

pissed off truck driver

looking for trouble,

who frightens off the girl

and then gets into a fight

with the writer.

So for sure, this writer's

gonna get his ass kicked.

But then a stranger intervenes

and, uh, helps him out.

So the writer is driving

home, still a little shaken,

and he sees this stranger

walking along the road,

so, naturally, he pulls over

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