Eight Days a Week Page #2

- Dad!

- I'm sorry.

- Now, let go, Peter.

My New Guinea impatiens!

- I'm sorry.

- What are you doing?

Good old Nonno.

Whenever a situation calls for it...

...my grandfather pulls

his "infirm old man " routine.

I'm sorry.

He's saved my life hundreds of times.

I'm sorry.

The same couldn't be said

for my best friend, Matt.

This is my last chance.

Look, you know, I just don't wanna

see you setting yourself up like this.

I have been in love with Erica

since we were kids.

We used to play

Cowboys and Indians together.

When we were little,

we used to do everything together.

When you get mad at someone,

you go like this:

- It was great.

- It'll never work.

Why not?

Because we're losers.

Look, we've been picked

by genetic selection...

...to be the world's biggest living proof

that this world is f***ed.

- How's that?

- We lost the DNA lottery.

We didn't get the a**hole gene.

See, we're the nice guys.

We're never gonna succeed.

only the a**holes get the girls

and the dough, bro.

- You've got it all figured out.

- Damn straight, I do.

My parents think I'm going

to college in the fall.

I'm not going to college so I can be

a jerk with a degree...

...who assistant-manages

a Burger King.

"Would you like fries with that, please?"

No way.

- So you're just gonna give up?

- Yep.

- And I suppose you want me to give up too?

- Exactly.

You gotta become comfortably numb.

You can't let anyone

or anything disappoint you.

You gotta be self-sufficient.

I mean, look at me.

Do I need a girl like Erica? No.

Since you're gonna be here all summer,

mind if I use your mailing address?

- What for?

- I sent away for something...

...and I don't want my mom

to accidentally open it.

So I figured you'll be out here,

you can intercept it before anyone gets it.

- okay, I guess.

- Yes.

Hey. But admit it...

...sometimes you wish

you had a girlfriend.

No way.

Blockbuster, Domino's Pizza...

...Rosy Palm and her five friends...

...are all I need

for a great Saturday night.

Maybe if you're 14.

okay, you do have a point.

Sometimes I do need to spice up

my love life a little bit.

I'd like you to meet

my date for the evening, Peter.

You know, I read in Barely Legal

magazine about this guy...

...he got off humping fruit.

You're a sick puppy.

The sun is gonna make it

nice and warm.

Just like the real thing.

Well, what about the seeds?

Come on. I'm not gonna go down on it.

I amused myself

by watching the neighborhood.

Life is my TV.

And it was a little more interesting

than network television.

There was Mr. Mays.

My parents think he works

for the CIA or the FBI.

It's because every time

he comes home...

...he drives around the block

again and again...

...to make sure he's not being followed.

There's a kid on the street

that's a pyromaniac.

Matt made sure his parents

had left him alone in the house.

Bye, guys.

He then went to the upstairs bathroom

to make amore with his watermelon.

And the guy across the street.

I forget his name.

But he seems so sad.

His wife has cancer.

He dutifully takes her out

for a breath of fresh air every day.

It's a good thing Erica isn't around.

I got a woody watching Ms. Lewis

work out to Buns of Steel.

And pull. And pull. And pull.

Mr. Mays put in a second lap.

The crazy lady next door

eats her dinner in the car.

I was dismayed to see history

repeating itself.

Maybe Matt is right.

Some people are born

with the a**hole gene...

...and some of us aren't.

There was nothing much happening

to keep me amused at night.

At about 10, I saw Matt go out

to the upstairs balcony.

If he had been in there all that time...

...that watermelon now had

more holes in it than a Wiffle ball.

Only the crazy lady was out.

She was cutting her grass.

It looked like there was something good

on TV over at my house...

...and I wanted to watch it.

But something got in the way.

So I watered the plants instead.

I figured I should take advantage

of the time I had on my hands.

I vowed that if I were

to become Erica's boyfriend...

...I had to become the greatest lover

she had ever known.

In pursuit of that goal, I decided

I would become an expert in love.

I started by reading The Joy of Sexuality.

It wasn't the descriptions of the wildly

uninhibited Chinese-style sex positions...

...like the

"wailing monkey clasping a tree"...

...or "wild geese flying

on their backs "...

...that I found most enlightening.

It was the guy they picked

to illustrate...

...all the exotic conjugations.

The guy is butt-ugly.

And the girl was a babe.

This was inspiring.

I mean, if this Quest for Fire reject

could get laid, why couldn't I?

oh, good, my parents aren't home

from church yet.

I'll meet you inside.

I'm gonna have a talk

with your friend Peter.

okay.

So you're still here, huh?

I would have thought you'd have

gotten smart and given up by now.

Why do guys always make that noise?

What noise?

This noise:

I mean, you guys spit so much.

Makes you wonder

what you've been sucking on.

Shut up.

oh, what a...

What a demonstrative display

of masculine aggression.

Did you know

that such behavior is a sign of...

...latent homosexuality?

I think it's time you left.

- I'm not leaving.

- You wanna fight?

I'll give you a free shot.

Go for it, my friend.

How could I refuse this invitation?

I was going to lose this fight...

...but at least I could get

one killer shot in.

So I charged the Prince of Darkness.

Then I realized my mistake.

It was a trick.

It felt like my nuts had exploded.

And it sounded like a pair of water

balloons dropped off a building.

That'll teach you, huh?

I took it as a good sign that Erica

was curious to see if I was still there.

It was important that Erica never see me

flag in my devotion by leaving my post.

But on the other hand, I didn't

wanna smell like my uncle Lou...

...when Erica finally buckled

under my romantic vigilance.

So I figured while she was

getting ready for the day...

...I'd pop inside for a quick shower

and some Cheerios.

What are you doing?

Changing the locks.

When you finally give up

this nonsense...

...I'll let you back inside.

Dad, give me a break.

Forget it.

Mom.

This was desperate.

No food. No water.

Nice.

And I really needed to do

some low-altitude bombing.

I had no choice but to impose

on my best friend, Matt.

Hey, Matt, open up!

I'm showering, man!

The side door's open!

What about a little privacy?

oh, man. Light a match.

Sorry. Hey, where's your toothpaste?

oh, get out of here. People are gonna

think we're queer or something.

What the hell are you doing?

I started reading

The Joy of Sexuality...

...checked out the part

about cunnilingus.

Wanted to make sure I was in shape.

Cunnilingus.

Yo, you've been checking out

for my mail?

Nothing came yet.

Brought you some food.

- No, thanks.

- Come on, it's good.

Sorry about the noise, Peter,

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes