Real Time Page #5

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born in the f***ing curse.

If you say so, Andy.

Let's go.

You all right?

Oh, I'm just f***ing dandy, Reuben.

Open up that glove box.

Take one of them

yellow ones.

What is it?

Don't worry about it.

It'll take the edge off.

You got any water?

Just swallow it.

Don't be a baby.

It'll take a few minutes to kick in.

So I'm gonna assume that you

planned your little escape

long before you got

to your grandmother's place.

I've got to give you

your props, Andy.

You handled it nicely.

I mean, not just the weepy bit

on Grandma's lap,

but all the rest of it,

you know,

all the details before.

Any of that true?

You'd think I'd actually steal

from my own

f***ing grandmother, Reuben?

I mean, I owe her

a wee bit of money, but...

Is there really a Miss Manu?

Yeah.

She just happened to pass away

when I was 11.

Hmm.

So tell me this, Andy:

if you have the imagination

to come up with all that,

to plan that far ahead,

and to fool a bloke

who doesn't get fooled very often,

how come you never

got your sh*t together?

I already told you, Reuben,

'cause I'm too far

in the f***ing hole, aren't I?

I-I would have been better off

if you just put a f***ing bullet

in my head an hour ago.

Do you really believe that, Andy?

You okay, Cleo?

Reuben, she's been asleep

for a very long time.

What the f*** did you give her?

Same thing I gave you.

Half a dose.

Less than half.

A quarter, okay?

What does she weigh,

like, 12 pounds?

No, motherf***er,

she only weighs nine pounds.

- Really?

- Yes!

Only nine?

No worries,

she'll be all right, Andy.

She'll be fine.

Trust me.

What are you gonna do with her?

Are you gonna keep her?

You know, if you were half as nice

to people as you are to Cleo,

you might not be in this jam, Andy.

Yeah, well,

Cleo doesn't f***ing judge me.

The cat doesn't look at me

like I'm a hopeless f***-up.

She doesn't care if I gamble

or smoke or whatever.

Cat's too dumb to do any of those things.

No, she's not dumb.

She's easygoing.

Easy like Sunday morning,

aren't you, Cleo?

You know, Andy,

when I picked up Cleo,

I snooped around your place

a bit, and-and I...

I found this.

Who is she?

This girl I knew.

She's pretty.

Yeah, she is.

So instead of dicking around

for the last hour,

why didn't you look her up?

'Cause she don't want to see me, Reuben.

Trust me.

You want to call her?

You sure?

Suit yourself.

Here.

Take a look in there.

Cake.

Go on, try some.

Somebody took a f***ing bite

out of it already.

So?

What, you're gonna worry about germs now?

Go ahead and try some.

Good?

No?

It's nice.

Great, delicious.

A week ago, I never knew chocolate

raspberry truffle cake even existed.

I didn't know some genius

had figured out a way

to make chocolate cake taste even better.

I guess what scares me most

about dying

is all the stuff

I'll never know about,

you know?

I mean, that cake there, that's-

that's just a little thing, but what else?

If you'd died 20 years ago,

think of all the stuff

you would have missed.

You gonna finish that?

No, I'm not really hungry.

You still have a few minutes, Andy.

Yeah, I'd maybe like to hear

some music if that's okay.

Music?

What kind?

Pop, rock, classical, jazz?

Whatever.

Just hit the search button,

see where she lands.

Would go on to be Murphy's only hit.

Reaching number-

Figures.

What?

It's a nice song.

- Nice?

- Yeah.

It's the f***ing

saddest sh*t ever, man.

This sh*t follows me around

everywhere I go.

What do you mean,

follows you around?

It's all part of my sh*t luck.

Oh, come on, Andy.

Are you saying that if

a happy song had come on,

you'd-you'd no longer

believe in luck?

I'll bet if Chuck E's in Love

had come on,

you'd say, "Oh, I owe f***ing

money to Chucky Edge.

"Oh, f***, f***, f***.

I must be cursed."

I don't owe money to Chucky Edge.

Well, yes, you do, actually.

But the point is, if you keep

looking for the same thing,

you're gonna wind up

with the same thing.

You-you don't f***ing get it,

do you, Reuben?

I'm cursed.

I am f***ing cursed.

I really am.

No, I got-I got two kinds of luck.

I've got bad luck,

and I've got f***ing sh*t luck.

The only good luck I ever had

was wasted because of my sh*t luck.

That is horseshit, Andy.

You can't waste it.

Listen, the guy who

just won the lottery, okay?

He can go back

to the same damn store

and play the same

goddamn numbers

and have exactly

the same chance of winning

as he did the week before.

Random things happen.

Sometimes you benefit;

sometimes you don't.

That's all luck is, Andy.

You really believe that sh*t?

I sure do.

All right, hit the f***ing

search button again.

Fine.

# I can't live #

# if living is without you #

# I can't live #

I mean, come on, please.

It's about a guy and his girlfriend.

Jesus.

# If living is without you #

# I can't give #

# I can't give anymore #

# Well, I can't forget this evening #

# or your face as you were leaving #

# But I guess that's just

the way the story goes #

# You always smile #

# but in your eyes #

# your sorrow shows #

# Yes, it shows #

# Can't live #

# if living is without you #

# I can't live #

# I can't give anymore #

# I can't live #

# if living is- #

Reuben.

No, Andy.

We still have a minute or two.

Any last requests?

Oh, jeez, Reuben, you think

we could go to Walt Disney World?

No.

We could talk about it if you want.

Is that a place you have

fond memories of, huh?

Disney World?

I never went

to f***ing Disney World.

You wish you had,

though, huh?

Nope, not really.

Okay, so suppose

that we could go somewhere.

Where would you go?

What would you do?

I've never been anywhere, Reuben.

The only place I'm going now

is straight to hell.

You think there's a hell, Andy?

I sure f***ing hope not.

What about heaven?

What do you think that's like?

Sometimes I think I'll get up there,

and they'll, like,

take a look at my file and say,

"F***ing A, Andy,

you got a shitty-ass deal.

You got a raw deal. "

And they'll send me back.

Only this time, I've got, like,

Einstein's brain,

and I look like George Clooney,

and I-I'd use the Einstein brain

to cure f***ing AIDS and cancer

and use all the Clooney looks to...

get a lot of p*ssy.

But, you know,

on the other hand,

they might say,

"Well, hey, you were actually

one of the lucky ones, you know?"

And send you back to live

in some war-torn third-world slum.

No-yes, you're right.

That's it.

With my luck, I'd get reincarnated

as some dirty old bug

that f***ing eats sh*t

for half a day and dies

or, like, one of those f***ing

retard inbred dogs

that can barely breathe, right?

- What?

- What?

Your constant bad luck

bullshit is what.

You know, people have wanted

you dead for years, Andy.

Yeah, that's right, years.

I've been making excuses for you

for God knows how long.

You remember when you were 13,

and you placed all them bets

on them college basketball games?

Yeah, March Madness.

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