Down to You Page #5

Blew somebody away the other day

right in front of me.

-You got some beer on your back.

-So what?

Don't let that

get you down, man.

Light my fire, moron.

What the hell is this

about an album cover?

-So?

-So? He just wants to ring your bell.

What about Cyrus's bell? You have

naked pictures of her under your bed!

-And last week I saw you with her.

-We're just friends.

-She's going through a bad time.

-I'm sure.

Why the hell didn't you tell me about

that lizard king's album cover?

So what? Are you afraid that I'm

gonna do something without you?

-You're being a real b*tch, you know!

-You are an old man and I hate that!

And I hate you!

They don't understand me.

And I bet they don't

get you either, huh?

I'm going to say something

real important here.

This is definitely the best

conversation I've had all night.

Look, Hicks,

would you cut it out?

Hicks, cut it out.

Get your damn hands off of her.

Why can't I get

a girlfriend like yours?

It's me. I'm downstairs.

I'm sorry.

I am.

-I have to tell you something.

-What?

I slept with Jim last night.

Get the f*** out!

All right. Just, before

you hate me, hear me out.

It was a horrible mistake. In one night

I destroyed everything Al and I had.

And I was an absolute coward for it.

But I just wanted my youth back.

There was no way to apologize

after that. It was over.

I felt like there was only one thing

I could do:
leave.

Just go and start over. But I couldn't

do that until I told him how I felt.

I just wish I had

the courage to stay.

I used to sit in my room

with my sketchpad...

whether it was

at home or here...

and within a few seconds,

I would be somewhere else.

And that was so special to me.

But...

for some reason...

I can't get to

that place anymore.

I'm so sorry that I hurt you

the way that I did.

I can't do this anymore.

I have, I need to go.

Ouch!

That kind of sucked.

Anyway. After that, Imogen moved

to San Francisco to finish school.

And me? How did I end up?

Well, you'll see.

Graduation came and went.

You'd think I'd feel fulfilled,

but I didn't.

I was starting to get down,

so I went to Monk for advice.

-I need to talk.

-Should I open with a joke?

-I can't even eat anymore.

-There's too much base on my cheeks.

My regular make-up girl

is free-lancing for Stallone.

He was giving a lecture

about censorship and art.

And he wouldn't

even listen to me.

Time to summon the blood,

time to summon the blood.

We stopped being friends

after that.

I found myself staying

indoors, a lot.

One day, a little spider

came down from the ceiling.

His name was Owen, he told me he'd

lived in that apartment his whole life.

And that he'd never seen a tenant

spend so much time alone.

He asked if I wanted him to spin a web

over the door, so no one could get in.

I told him:
"No, thanks".

Even though it sounded

like the best idea yet.

But Owen the spider had a good point:

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

It's boring."

So I decided to date again.

I only allow myself to have crabs on

weekends. So thank God it's Friday.

Are you going to eat your bread?

He's cute and he didn't bring me

to a cheap restaurant. Okay. Bye.

My dad.

He just likes to check in.

State requires that I wear a tracking

device or I violate my parole.

I know this is a little bit silly,

but do I have any food in my teeth?

As you can see,

my choices were limited.

So one day I bumped into Cyrus

and we started having a fling.

Trouble is she had this thing

about Barnes and Noble bookstores.

But I could never bring myself

to make her pancakes.

I heard she went back to MIT.

So, I thought going to the Culinary

Institute would turn my life around.

But food never tasted

like it used to do.

I started cutting class.

I flunked the pop quiz

on fish fileting.

And pretty soon

I was a culinary drop-out.

With nothing else to do, I was forced

to go bar-hopping with Hicks.

I'd sure like to unfold

her napkin, you know?

-God, I'm feeling grabby tonight.

-Last night wasn't enough?

I didn't arrive.

-You didn't arrive?

-No, I was too wasted.

-Was she older or younger?

-Sixty.

-You slept with a 6O-year old woman?

-When you work in physical therapy...

...you make friends fast.

-My God.

-I'm not interested anymore...

-No way!

It's just what I need.

-The economy catch.

-It was your idea, damn it!

She's with a guy.

-But they are fighting, Al.

-Go!

They are fighting.

'Sup?'sup?

You want some of this?

Get the hell out of here!

I had moved into

my own little studio.

I stood there wondering where

she was at that moment...

what she was doing.

How did her hair look?

I just wanted to see her again.

I'd saved all these things

from our past.

Letters, tapes we made

to each other, pictures.

I just wanted to look

through it all again.

Remember it.

Remember her.

When I was thru, instead of feeling like

I could shake things off and move on...

I felt the opposite.

We can do silly things for love.

You wouldn't believe what I did.

Luckily he had a phenomenal amount

of alcohol in his blood...

which kept the shampoo from circulating

before we could get it out of him.

Shampoo?

We're gonna have a psych evaluate

him. Maybe we'll get some answers.

-Can we see him?

-Sure.

Come on. Shampoo?

-What did you do?

-We were worried sick.

-Look what you put your mother through!

-They want a psych to check you out.

Mom, Dad, stop.

I'm okay.

Yes, you are.

So why don't you tell us

about this shampoo thing?

You drank the shampoo because

you hoped you were immune to it?

-Right.

-You hoped you were immune to it?

-The shampoo.

-Why did you hope you were immune?

Because if I was immune to it

then I wouldn't need it again ever.

-The shampoo?

-No, her.

But you weren't immune to it. You

needed to have your stomach pumped.

-That's what worries me.

-When was the last time you saw her?

It's been a while.

She moved out west to start over.

I found out she's working for

a publishing company, doing artwork.

Have you had any

girlfriends since?

That's my number. From the sound of

all this, I think I found my next book.

-How are you feeling?

-Pumping me with garlic and olive oil.

-What are you going to do next?

-I was thinking about...

giving Paul John Breslin

at Oceana a call.

Oceana? He's a Mussolini. Why not

just go dry dishes somewhere?

-You don't need that.

-Dad, I do need that.

I wasn't going to tell you this

until you were better.

You know our show, "Cooks"?

It's been approved.

We can do it the way

we talked about it.

Dad, I kinda wanna work my way up.

"Cooks" is your thing.

You know, sometimes I don't even

know if you're making sense.

Dad.

I know what I need to do.

I was thinking about having

this party for you, for the show.

Maybe we should have it anyway.

You can invite all your friends.

We'll have fun.

No shampoo.

-Excellent choice.

-I knew you'd approve.

-Always.

-Remember the first time we heard it?

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