Daydream Nation Page #2

- The kids in my class are stupid.

- I doubt that.

- Tyler Jenkins can't even read.

- The Jenkins are crackers.

- Watch your French, Thurston.

I'm sure Tyler's trying.

- Mom,

he is a cracker.

He has six toes.

- I'm sure there's some advantage

to that, like maybe swimming.

Thurston?

- Oh... God, no.

- Ahem. I dunno...

- Thurston...

- No, don't.

Don't...

- It's not your fault.

- Well, I... I'm not doing the dishes.

Thomas.

I love you more than oxygen.

Please come rescue me

from these fools.

- Hi, Mr. A.

- Caroline.

- Can I come in?

- No.

- The mat says "welcome."

- I hate that mat.

- You know, there's a serial killer

running around with a white suit on.

- You really shouldn't joke

about things like that.

- You're the one who won't let me in.

I might die.

Thanks.

Very nice.

- Thank you.

- Who's this?

- Ah, that's my wife.

- Where is she?

- She's in the other room.

- Oh.

- Yeah, we're crazy in love.

It's wonderful.

- Um... I should... leave.

- I'm kidding. It's my sister.

That's why she looks like me

with long hair.

- Funny.

- Caroline... to tell you the truth,

I know what you're doing.

I read your paper.

- You didn't like my paper?

- I have a hard time believing

that Monica Lewinsky

is the historical figure you most admire.

- I was critical.

I said her problem

was she lacked discretion.

She had a good thing going

and she blew it.

- Can I give you a lift home?

You should really leave.

- Ah... Ooh, can I have some wine?

- No, no! Absolutely not!

No, hey...

This is like when people describe

a car crash happening in slow motion.

- You need to relax.

I am the one seducing you.

Besides, I find you very handsome.

My mom once told me that if you ever

want to make a man happy...

... flatter his vanity.

Tell him he's handsome.

She said not to bother

calling him interesting or clever,

because that's what their bosses

and colleagues are for.

But every man carries a secret dream

of being handsome,

and desperately yearns

to be recognized as such.

- So I read your papers and,

overall, they are an improvement.

But...

... punctuation and structure

are still...

still a mess.

Uh, so to remedy this,

I will be offering private tutorials

after class to anyone who's interested.

The, um... schedule will begin

in reverse alphabetical order,

which means that, uh...

... Wexler, Caroline,

you're up tonight.

- Oops, I'm sorry.

- Oh, this is so wrong.

- Oh, relax.

- I don't wanna be a father figure.

- Oh, my God...

I already have one of those,

thank you.

- You promise me you won't tell anybody?

- I promise.

- Promise?

- I promise, I promise.

Before we go any further,

I should tell you the story

of Thurston and Rolly.

God that was strange

To see you again

Introduced by a friend of a friend

Smiled and said

yes I think we've met before

- Hey, you can't smoke in here.

- Why? Those people are smoking.

- Yeah, but this is my house,

and I get decide who can smoke,

and you can't smoke.

- Hey, man,

you probably shouldn't be doing that.

- Why not?

It's my house I'm throwing 'em at.

- All right.

This scar is a fleck

on my porcelain skin

Tried to reach deep

But you couldn't get in

Now you're outside me

You see all the beauty

Repent all your sin

- Hi.

- Hi.

It's nothing but time and a face

That you lose

I chose to feel it

Fantastic. Fan-f***ing-tastic, man.

- Yeah.

- What a great girl.

Smart, funny...

She has big lips.

- Ouch!

- You think she has a boyfriend?

- Oh, who gives a sh*t.

- Girl like that's born

with a boyfriend, I guess.

- So you steal her away.

- Yeah?

- Yeah.

- Yeah, f***, yeah.

It's not always so easy, though.

- Ah, man, if you're fated

to be with a girl,

you gotta fight for her.

- Yeah, but I don't really believe

in all that sh*t.

- What?

You don't believe in fate?

- No.

- Well, you...

you believe in love, don't you?

- I mean, yeah, I guess.

- If you believe in love...

... you have to believe in fate.

Trust me, okay,

I think about this sh*t all the time.

Oh...

Thurston, wake up.

Wake up!

- Ah...

Oh, sh*t.

- Oh...

- Ah...

Okay.

- Ah...

Ah-ha-ha! Ah...

- What's wrong?

- My leg.

- You all right?

- My leg,

I think it's f***ed-up real bad.

- Oh...

- What, "oh"?

- Ah!

Okay, listen--

Oh, I got drugs in my pocket.

You gotta hide 'em

before the police come,

or I'm royally f***ed.

Thurston!

- Sorry. Yeah, no, okay.

- Ah...

God dammit.

- You boys all right down there?

I called the police.

They're on their way

- Oh, no, we're okay, thank you.

Call back and tell them not to come.

- You need any help?

- Uh, no, thank you!

- What?

- Mind you own f***ing business!

Go.

- Thurston told me that standing there

in the middle of the forest,

all the life suddenly went out of him

and he was demoted from hero to victim.

But with that shift of responsibility

came a great peace.

What Thurston didn't know

was that a man in a grey suit -

not the killer at all,

but just some poor guy

in the wrong place at the wrong time -

was doing everything he could

to save Rolly's life.

Later the doctor said Rolly

had been hemorrhaging internally

and there was nothing

anyone could've done.

And though he could hear

the distant sirens,

Thurston knew that an ambulance

can only go so fast.

And even in the midst of all this,

he was dreaming of us

building a cabin in the mountains,

away from it all.

But that would have to wait,

because his life

was miracle of bad luck.

And that's how Thurston fell in love

and watched his friend die

on the same night.

Wake up!

Wake up, wake up, wake up!

- Please stop.

- It's Sunday!

It's the Lord's day!

- It's the day the Lord rested--

- No, it's not. Guess what I did.

- What?

- Made breakfast for you.

- What'd you make?

- Happy eggs.

- Why are they happy?

- Because they're for you,

mon professeur de les oeufs.

- Aw...

- Aw...

- That coffee's terrible, babe.

- Well, excuse me,

I've never made coffee before.

- Really? You're in the gifted program;

it should be easy.

- Sorry, Mr. A.

- Mm. Eggs are good, though.

- All right.

- All right, don't get cocky.

- Good morning, sir.

Is Caroline home?

- No, she spent the night

with some friends.

- She has friends?

- What's your name, son?

- Oh, I'm sorry,

sometimes I misplace my manners.

My name's Thurston.

- Thurston. Mr. Wexler.

- Nice to meet you, sir.

- Good to meet you.

- Uh...

can I, uh, can I ask you something,

Mr. Wexler?

- Sure.

- Do you feel like, uh,

your daughter's happy here?

- Y -y-you trying to sell me something?

- What?

Why? Uh, no, I just, uh...

Can I come in?

- No.

- Oh, sorry. Yeah, that's weird.

I sometimes just wonder

if Caroline's, uh...

integrating well with people.

- Huh.

I'm gonna close the door now,

okay, Thurston?

- Right. Well, uh...

... nice to meet you, sir.

- See, we've already done that.

So you can just go.

- Okay. All right.

- Okay. All right.

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