Girlfriend's Day Page #3

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I don't have any cats.

[microphone feedback rings]

[Madsen] Okay, y'all ready

to get your poems on?

This first one is about my jet ski.

[scattered applause]

[Karen] For a romance card writer,

you weren't very romantic.

[Buddy] You gotta forget

about Karen. You gotta let her go.

[Madsen]

Big Ray here used to be the best,

the Bill Shakespeare

of romance cards.

[Taft]

Words.

[Buddy] You're not still

picking up the cat, are you?

[cat yowls]

[Cathy]

'Cause you're an alcoholic.

[locomotive horn blares]

[vocalists]

Jinky baby, Jinky baby, ciao

Wow-wow baby, wow-wow baby, wow

[music continues playing overhead]

"I'm with you

in hard times especially.

Look for me in your heart.

My name is... God."

Ooh.

"Somebody broke your heart.

Good for me."

[Ray]

Hey.

"Now I get a piece.

Thanks for sharing."

Thanks for sharing.

That is so sad, don't you think?

It's brutal.

That's a person

who's asking for so little.

You still got that awesome tattoo?

Yep. Hasn't washed off yet.

What are you doing here?

I'm looking for inspiration.

Anything good?

Yeah. Seeing how awful these are

is a real pick-me-up.

[Jill chuckles]

Ohh.

Ah, yeah, it's pretty gross.

I actually work here.

Really?

You don't walk around all the time

in a red smock with a name tag?

No, I do not.

Ooh.

Optimistic Owl.

Oh, man!

"Surrounded by clouds.

Good for you.

That's where the rainbows hide."

These are the worst.

I hate optimistic people.

They bum me out

with their upbeat attitude.

All they ever do is

make me feel more alone.

Are you real?

[male vocalist]

...can hardly seem real

Falling in love

So, why did you quit writing?

I didn't.

I just quit being good at it.

Yeah, well, you'll get it back.

You gotta have the feelings first,

and then you can write about them.

Yeah.

Shitfoot?

[male vocalist]

...feeling

Ray?

You okay?

Hey, um, do you think that...

Do you think that, um...

we could, uh...

I like to get that sh*t over with.

["Making Love Out of Nothing at All"

by Air Supply playing]

But I don't know how to leave you

And I'll never let you fall

[Ray sings along]

And I don't know how you do it

Making love

Out of nothing at all

Out of nothing at all

Out of nothing at all

Out of...

[Air Supply]

Out of nothing at all

Every time I see you

All the rays of the sun

Are streaming through

the waves of your hair

And every star in the sky

Is taking aim at your eyes like...

[song stops abruptly]

[urine flowing]

[distant heavy door closes]

[urination stops]

[urine resumes flowing]

[distant heavy door closes]

[distant heavy door opens]

[heavy machinery whirring]

[Klaxon blares]

My God! Taft!

- [Taft groans]

- Sh*t!

Sorry.

Who did this to you?

What are you doing here?

Paper Hearts.

What, are you working

for Paper Hearts?

- I can't say.

- What can't you say?

I...

love...

you.

I think very highly of you, too.

Hey!

[distant siren wails]

"Girlfriend.

You've heard the expression

'penny for your thoughts.'

Well, here are ten dimes

for your thoughts.

Signed, the numb-nuts

that's dating you."

Stupid.

Who the f*** are you?

Who the f*** am I?

Well.

I'm Detective f***ing Miller,

f***ing Homicide, that's who I am.

Can I see a badge?

Yeah.

Have a gander.

It's pretty, isn't it?

What kind of cards

you write, Wentworth?

Romance.

Romance.

So every time I forget to give

one of your mushy-ass cards

to my girl,

I get cut off for a month.

Perhaps if you were well-endowed,

you wouldn't need one of my cards.

[faintly]

Right.

[Ray gagging]

[Ray gasps and coughs]

You punched me in the throat!

Mmm.

What do you want?

Investigating a "homo-cide."

One of your butt buddies

was found in the river this morning

with a bunch of water

where his internal organs used to be.

Who?

Orwell Taft.

Taft.

Taft is dead.

Yes.

He was killed.

To death.

What happened to him?

Shouldn't I be asking you that?

- You think that I...?

- He was your competition, right?

You got somebody watching over you.

For now.

But you've got to deliver.

Deliver what?

Oh, I'll tell you what.

You get out your feather pen,

and you write a nice little card

that'll open

my girlfriend's legs again.

Maybe, just maybe...

I might consider dropping

your bloody shirt at the dry cleaners.

And tossing that blade in the river.

[newscaster] Police have identified

the body as one Orwell G. Taft,

a self-described writer.

Nothing more is known at this time.

He probably had

a second family somewhere.

Or he was an S&M junkie,

liked to be whipped and kicked around

or held underwater to get his jollies.

Those types are everywhere.

I'm just saying.

Hey, what's shaking?

Why is everybody so much more

depressed than usual?

Jeez Louise, Mr. Wentworth,

did you get into a car accident?

No.

A shoe.

It hit me in the face.

Somebody's shoe.

So, what's up?

Didn't you hear?

- Taft killed himself.

- What?

They found him floating

in the river this morning.

Sh*t.

Another one bites the dust, huh?

- Hey.

- Hi.

- Hey.

- Oh. Sorry.

Something happened to my face.

I-I hurt it.

Sorry about that.

Do you want to drink about it?

I...

I think I'd better not tonight.

Um, I...

I brought you something.

I hope it comforts your face.

Thanks.

Uh, and my phone number's

on the bottom of it.

It's open.

Rent.

I got nothin'.

I'll watch the kid.

There is no kid.

My sister dragged his ass

back to Chicago,

to hassle my other brother.

Shoot. All right.

[soft groan]

Oh... uh, I got an idea.

How about a yard sale, then?

You can put price tags

on everything here.

Uh, this couch.

My bed frame.

That's a thousand bucks right there.

I got all this small stuff,

like the kitchenware

and, uh, my shoe horns.

The Christmas ornaments.

You put all that on one card table

right in the middle of the room

and a little sign that says,

"Everything on this table,

hundred bucks."

People will go nuts.

Everything for a hundred bucks.

On the table.

I mean, well, name your price.

And what about you?

Well, see, I still...

I get to live here while it goes on.

It's kind of like a living showroom.

Never been done.

You're crazy.

Did you hear about that writer who, uh...

Oh, the guy that drowned?

He didn't drown.

Well, he didn't swim very good.

Very well. He didn't swim very well.

You teach English with that mouth?

[Buddy chuckles]

F***in' "A"!

I think it has something

to do with this, uh...

Girlfriend's Day.

They're killing people

over a new holiday?

Who would do that?

Follow the money.

Yeah.

Wait, what?

Follow the money. It's...

I saw it in a movie once.

Oh.

Hey, but if you're actually worried,

you know,

you can move out to the 'burbs.

We die slowly here.

Yeah. Too slowly.

Get you a job teaching Driver's Ed.

Speed things up.

[minister] And we have come

to the moment in our service

where we can go no farther,

and stand on the edge of a chasm,

yearning to hear...

Sad day.

Huh?

Oh, yeah. Sad.

You got the card?

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