My Dead Boyfriend Page #2

---

That's six percent of America.

You're illiterate

and suffer voter apathy.

What, you never floss?

I don't know.

I'm single.

You dumped Primo?

Not exactly.

Primo dumped you?

Sort of.

Hey, what kind of lipstick

were you wearing

the other day at Mars Bar?

Uh, it was

Righteous Raspberry.

Wait a second. What happened?

He died.

What?! Who?

Primo. Primo Schultz.

Do you want his dog?

I'm allergic.

Excusez-moi.

Did I hear you mention

the name Primo Schultz?

Yeah.

Oh!

What a beautiful man.

How is he?

Less beautiful.

He was mon amour

nearly 20 years ago.

Twenty years?

Mm. Did you go to prom together?

We studied at Columbia,

but we met abroad

in Bologna for a semester.

Primo had a formal education?

It must be a different

Primo Schultz.

Well, he did drop out

after a year, but...

Ah, well,

that sounds like our boy.

He couldn't have been in

Columbia in the '70s because...

Yeah, he's like 39 and a half.

Primo?

I thought he was 37.

Non, c'est pas possible.

He has to be less than

a year of 45.

Ooh, Merde, I've got to run.

I've got two minutes

to get the Koons

at Mary Boone. Oh! I rhymed.

When you see Primo, tell him

his Helne forgives him,

and I just opened up

my own art gallery

on Twenty-fourth

and Eleventh Avenue,

and I would love to show

his work. Hmm? D'accord?

I never heard the word "work"

associated with Primo.

I never heard there was

an Eleventh Avenue.

I... I've walked

a thousand miles

Yeah I've walked

a thousand steps

To be embraced

by your lovin' arms

To feel the shake

of your loving bell

Every step I take

I take toward you

You take one

in the other way

"The Cumming Attractions

by Primo Schultz."

What can I do

What can I say

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Ugh. Hey! Hey,

what are you thinking?

Hello?

What the hell is this?

This is Primo's mother.

Hello, Mrs. Schultz.

I guess I must have the wrong number.

Hello?

We spoke last night.

Oh, my God.

I can't believe this.

Don't you know I love ya

Can't you see

what this is all about

Ugh.

Mrs. Schultz.

Who is this?

We spoke yesterday.

I told you about Primo.

My name is Mary.

I never heard of you.

I live with him.

Whatever.

He's going to be cremated,

and I'd like you to come by

to pick up the ashes

here in New Rochelle.

Um, already? New Rochelle?

Well, I thought it would be

nice to have them scattered

down there in that filthy city

he loved so much.

Well, wouldn't you like

to do that?

I'm going to have

the ashes on Monday,

but, uh, I have to have

some work done on my face,

so would you please come

at 11 a.m. sharp?

Uh...

On Thursday the 23rd.

Eleven a.m.,

Thursday the 23rd.

Poor Primo.

So young,

just like his poor father.

How young?

Oh, God. There.

Tomorrow we'll take

a much longer walk

to the doggy death camp.

One quick little shot

and you'll never know

what happened.

Hey, pick up the poop!

It's not my poop!

You're holding

the f***ing leash.

Okay.

This band sucks.

Just...

I got it.

Joey.

You're actually walking a dog?

It turns out

if you don't walk him,

he uses your living room

as a urinal.

He's a she.

What?

Your dog, it's a she.

Oh.

Oh, we have dinner tonight.

Right.

Um, I'm just gonna

run up and change.

Ah. Really?

You got fired

from your temp job?

Excuse me, my boyfriend just died.

That doesn't strike you

as a bigger news story?

You never introduced me,

so it's not like I have

an emotional attachment.

Neither did I.

Can I get this

out of your way?

Can I get that in a body bag?

Uh, a doggy bag? Thanks.

Joey Lucas

and his credit card

appeared in my life out

of nowhere about a year ago.

Zoe and I had started a band

a few months before

when we got tired of hearing

everyone else's sucky music.

We decided to create

our own special brand of suck.

We actually weren't that bad,

although Zoe began to take it

a bit more seriously

than I had ever intended.

We're Mommy's Little Whore!

And our drummer

was a total disaster.

Thank you! Good night.

So, of course,

I had to date him.

Because he wasn't just

a bad drummer.

Hey, you looked

really hot tonight.

He was a real firestorm

of stimulating conversation.

Mary? Mary?

Little Mary McCrawley?

Uh... thanks for the

compliment. Do I know you?

I'm Joey Lucas

from Hoboken, New Jersey.

Um, I was your old neighbor.

Friend of your parents?

Uh-huh.

The last time

I had seen Joey Lucas

of Hoboken, New Jersey,

was the day he left forever.

This was a historic pattern

in Hoboken,

and Joey Lucas,

like Frank Sinatra before him,

joined a long list of Hobokians

who left and never returned.

My own father was on that list.

He left my mother and me

when I was a year old,

and he never returned.

My mother, on the other hand,

never went anywhere else.

Remember?

Oh, it doesn't matter.

Anyway... two days ago,

I see your name on a flyer,

and I think, you know,

it can't be.

I mean, what are the odds?

So... I just thought I'd come

by and see the band and you,

and, uh...

You... you were awesome.

Yeah, yeah. That's right.

I remember.

I totally saw you, dude.

I thought you were

like a manager or...

Huh.

Somethin'.

Um... Oh, listen. Wait

a minute. I had... Yes. I...

That's my card,

if you ever want to, uh,

you know, have dinner

or... catch up.

Sounds great.

I'll call you tomorrow.

I know a really nice place.

It's on First and Third.

Now? Great.

I mean, it looks nice,

but I've never been

actually in it.

Bye.

Mm-hmm. And that's where

we're going?

It's probably really expensive.

Happily, that evening

turned into a glorious

bimonthly tradition

of free food and drink,

which I'm proud to say

continues today.

So are you gonna start looking

for a new job?

I guess. Unfortunately,

I donated my pumps

as part of an art installation

before Primo died.

It's hard to explain.

You need a roommate?

Are you offering?

I just, um...

I work in this

collection agency,

so, you know,

I know a lot of people

who can't pay their bills,

and they're always looking

for a place to live.

That sounds great.

Why don't you send

one of those losers my way?

Alright, never mind.

Bad idea. Okay.

No, it's okay, thanks.

I put an ad in The Voice...

Do you want to come up?

That's right, um, you...

you write for them

sometimes, right?

Well, sometimes is strong.

I mean, they rarely call,

but that's okay,

'cause I decided

to write a novel

about a homeless,

barefoot ex-temp

living off the fat of the land.

Okay, tell me the truth.

Did you look up my name at your

collection agency? Don't lie.

No comment.

Oh, my God. I have

the worst credit, don't I?

Not the worst... technically.

Oh. Oh, my God.

No. It's really

not that bad.

Plus, uh, you...

you play the bass,

and you paint

and you write songs.

A girl like you,

you got a lot of options.

All of which pay me handsomely.

No, no, you're lucky.

I never...

I don't know,

I never had any creative talent.

I'm sure you have something.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes