Running with Scissors Page #5

And he did.

$75,000.

That's so great.

- So, if you just apply...

- My dad spent it.

Every penny.

So that the IRS wouldn't take this house.

So I do know what it's like, Augusten,

to love somebody who doesn't deserve it.

Because they're all you have.

God, I hate my life.

I hate this kitchen.

I need high ceilings.

Me too.

Let's get rid of it, then.

Let's take down the ceiling.

Deirdre, I need to talk to you.

I'm a fuckup and it's your fault!

That's right, Neil,

blame your father for your inability to focus.

Direct all that rage at me

if it makes you feel better.

I can't focus because of the voices!

I see you for what you are.

Yeah? Camera never lies, see?

My parents have given you

thousands of dollars and I'm still sick!

You haven't helped me get better!

You know what I do!

And you haven't helped me get better!

Deirdre?

Did you hear me?

Hello, Agnes.

Why am I here?

Well, you have an appointment.

Your regular 2:
00.

Yes. Why are you here?

Because I want you

to stop seeing my husband.

You're right, Neil, you're right.

I've done nothing, apparently.

I've never pulled any strings,

gotten you a scholarship

to the University of Rochester

to pursue your photographic interests.

Absolutely nothing.

You just wanted to get rid of me.

I don't wanna get rid of Augusten.

He's part of the family now.

It's just you. I just need you to go.

But then I'd miss my therapy.

I need Dr. Finch.

No, I need Dr. Finch!

I'm not as pretty as you

and I don't have your talent.

All I have is this family.

And this family doesn't work without him.

Why won't you let me live in the house

and be a part of this family?

Because I am the patriarch, and when the

patriarch says jump, you jump, God damn it!

You don't cooperate, Neil,

and for that you're punished.

That's not why you won't let me live

in this house.

You won't let me 'cause you're afraid of me,

aren't you?

Of what I could do to you in the

middle of the night while you're sleeping?

You're afraid of my anger,

aren't you, Doctor?

Our time is up, Neil.

I believe we've made a breakthrough today.

Really?

I am to see the doctor now.

Hello, Neil.

Hello, Mrs. Burroughs, you look wonderful.

Oh, thank you. How's my son?

He's just great.

- Will you be kind to him?

- I will.

That's why I'm blocked, Dr. Finch,

I'm sure of it.

You're not blocked because of Fern, Deirdre.

You're constipated creatively

because of the rage you are not expressing.

Scream, Deirdre, scream. Express the pain.

Fern has ceased to be

a suitable companion, Deirdre.

You need someone who worships you,

who will feed your talent.

I have just the candidate.

Deirdre, I'd like to introduce you

to Dorothy Ambrose, my 3:00.

Dorothy is creative like you. She paints

her fingernails to match her mood.

What color are we today, Dorothy?

Shell pink. I've had a nice day.

Dorothy has a trust fund.

It was established by her father

after he showed her his penis in a rowboat.

I've always wanted a daughter.

The ceiling was crushing us.

So we made a skylight.

I think it brings a much-needed

sense of humor to the kitchen.

Vienna sausage. I've been looking for these.

I'll get it.

Don't touch my sausage.

- Dr. Finch?

- Yes.

Michael Shephard, IRS.

Where will I treat the people who need me?

How will I provide for my family?

You got an extension, Dad.

Six weeks.

After six weeks they take the house.

We'll pray. God will help us.

And when God turns a deaf ear

we can all just live in the car,

because at least that's paid for.

You are a terrible daughter.

Well, f*** you, kiss-ass.

Just remember,

Daddy's like a great ocean liner.

If he goes down,

he's taking a lot of people with him.

Stop.

- Damn it, Bookman!

- What?

Something's not right.

It's your hair. It lacks proper body.

That's because you've been pulling at it

for two hours.

Well, I wouldn't have to pull at it

if it wasn't so naturally hideous.

I'm not complaining. I love it.

I love everything you touch.

Maybe you could work on my mustache.

No, this is useless.

Natalie, come here, let me try on you.

No, no. F*** that. Forget it.

I am through being your guinea pig.

Look, my hair's coming out in fistfuls.

Stop scratching at it.

You look like you have Down syndrome.

Hope.

Well, look, one of you

is gonna have to help me, okay?

I don't get into beauty school

unless I master the cold wave.

Guess you're stuck with me, jocko.

Being in love is fantastic, Hope.

You should try it.

I'd hardly call you an expert.

Are you saying my relationship

with Augusten isn't real love?

I'm saying your relationship with Augusten

is not mature love, no.

Bullshit!

Neil, if you're not man enough

to handle the truth,

then maybe you should not be with a child.

I'm not a child, Hope.

You're right, Augusten, you're not.

I'm sorry, you're very mature.

It's just that I was speaking of the love

you have when you're older. Mature love.

And what do you, Miss Iceberg,

know about mature love?

When was the last time you had anything

in your twat besides a tampon?

That is the f***ing truth.

All right, Bookman, that's enough!

I'm certainly not gonna listen to you

when you're talking like a teenage boy!

What's in this? I'm starving.

Oh, this and that. My secret ingredient.

Would you like to try?

What's the secret ingredient?

Freud.

Freud's dead, Hope. You buried her.

I heard her calling me.

She wanted me to dig her up.

She asked to be reincarnated as a stew.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God!

You f***ing lunatic!

I knew you were insane!

I don't eat p*ssy. Psycho.

Come on, Augusten, let's go.

I want my beads back, Hope.

I was just kidding, you jerks!

Got some of my anger out.

Today, we are going to explore

sense memory.

I'd like everybody to take

their blade of grass

and stroke their cheeks

with their eyes closed.

Other senses are heightened

when the eyes are closed.

It's very soothing, isn't it?

All right.

Neil, I believe you have a poem

you'd like to read today.

Yes.

Deirdre, I'm not sure I feel comfortable

with a man in our safe space.

I guess, emotionally.

I just need time to process this.

Joan, Neil is a beautiful and sensitive poet.

He's part of my family

and we are going to welcome him today

with open arms and open ears.

Okay, fine.

But he's a man.

Joan, what you need to focus on

is not the presence of a man in this room,

but the lack of your mother's presence

in your poetry.

Neil.

"The Angry Nun."

By Neil Bookman.

"B*tch!

"Whore of Jesus!

"Dressed in black, you do not bleed like

a woman should bleed between the legs!

"But with your ruler, your crucifix of hatred,

you strike my tender flesh!

"I bleed for you!

"Oh, Mother."

And then I ran out of ink.

Good anger.

It ended exactly at the right moment.

Augusten, would you make me

some iced tea?

My new medicine makes my throat so dry.

Baby, I'll get it. I got it.

All right, all right, Neil. Let's break it down.

Let's break it down for Neil.

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