Running with Scissors Page #6

Look, I always get my mom

something to drink when she works. Okay?

- That's our thing.

- Your mother is my thing now.

Are we having a stare-down contest?

Yeah.

What do you want?

What do you want? Money?

Here's 50 bucks.

Go chase the ice-cream truck.

Leave!

You think this whole thing is funny,

don't you?

You look at my mom's craziness

as something to entertain you!

You are so mundane.

Your mother is an artist.

If you want Hamburger Helper, cupcake,

you need to find yourself another mother.

Everyone! Come quickly!

Wake up! Wake up!

A miracle!

A miracle! A miracle has occurred!

What are you looking at?

Dad's morning sh*t.

See? See how the tip of the coil

is breaking out of the surface of the water?

Holy Father.

Doctor.

Let me draw you a nice bath.

Agnes.

Go get a shoehorn. A shoehorn, Agnes.

But what does it mean, Dad?

It means our financial situation

is turning round.

It means

things are looking upward, literally.

The sh*t is pointing out of the pot,

towards heaven, to God.

My turd is a direct communication

from the Holy Father.

No, no, no, no, children. No. Laugh. Laugh.

God is.

He is the funniest man in the universe.

Agnes, I want you to carefully remove this,

take it outside and let it dry in the sun.

We're starting a shrine, Agnes, a shrine.

Hope, let's prepare.

Now I'll never get into Vassar.

Agnes?

Somebody's gotta stay on top of things

in this house.

I am just trying to hold it all together.

I need to ask you something.

He's fine. The doctor will be fine.

He's just overextended.

- That's not what I wanted to ask you.

- What do you want, Augusten?

I want you to make me Hamburger Helper.

So there it was at last, the awful truth.

Thank you.

Unlike my mom, I guess I had finally tapped

into my subconscious.

Journal, I feel doomed.

I should be getting ready for college.

Instead, I'm in my mother's

psychiatrist's house

lying on a used twin bed

with pee stains on it.

How did my life take such a dismal turn?

What did I do wrong along the way?

I turned 15 today.

My parents used to make such a big deal

out of my birthdays, out of all the holidays.

I want it to be like it used to be, when I had

a family that tried to love each other.

Where nobody thought

that God was talking through their sh*t.

I want a curfew.

I want to be grounded for sleeping with

a 35-year-old schizophrenic.

I want rules and boundaries,

because what I've learned is that

without them

all life is, is a series of surprises.

Surprise!

We gotcha!

Surprise.

We gotcha! And you didn't see it coming.

No, you didn't.

Smile.

Augusten, what's wrong?

He's just overcome, that's all.

I'll go get the matches.

This is good.

Deirdre?

Deirdre, come along now.

I'm not going to any goddamn hospital!

Now, Deirdre, it's just for observation.

- This is bullshit!

- Dorothy!

I will not be observed!

Deirdre, I have arranged

a very, very nice retreat for you in Vermont.

But if you don't open the door,

we will have to get the police.

No, don't you call the police!

Why you gotta go to call the pigs?

Oh, please! Oh, that's right, you think

anyone that's not a lesbian is a pig!

- You're all pigs!

- Oh, you f***ing selfish b*tch!

Filthy, stinking pigs!

You just wanna hurt her!

Will you stop? Please!

You stop! You stop!

Oh, please, why don't you go out

and write your f***ing poetry?

You don't need a mother!

You need an exorcist!

Oh, you need a f***ing bone up your ass,

that's what you need!

And you'd like that, you'd like that!

Now.

- No, no.

- Sh*t, sh*t.

We love you.

No! No!

No, let me go!

Please let me go!

Let me go!

Thank you.

Thank you.

Oh, this is too much.

Thank you so much.

"Grief.

"The angels are gone.

"For weeks I searched for them

"and took the precise measurements

of each room,

"as if the house had grown smaller

in my grief."

Not good enough. Boring. Repetitive.

Journal, good news.

After only a week of observation, my mother

has been released from the loony bin.

Dr. Finch assures me she's doing well,

and is writing a masterpiece that will finally

get her on The Merv Griffin Show.

I wish I had that kind of discipline.

Watch out. That's how he gets you

to fall in love with him.

Our first date was at the movies.

My Fair Lady.

I was so nervous my palms were sweaty.

But Norman's hands were so dry.

I found out later it was from psoriasis.

He reached for my hand in the dark

and that was it.

Hello, Norman.

Hello, Deirdre. You look well.

I'm sorry, Suzanne,

this is my ex-wife, Deirdre.

And, Deirdre, this is my fiance, Suzanne.

Hello.

It's nice to meet you.

I've heard so much about you.

I've heard nothing about you.

I open up my mailbox every day,

hoping to get a child support check

from this deadbeat,

but all I get is my own voice

echoing back at me.

You drank our family's money away.

I don't drink anymore, Deirdre.

I haven't had a drink in three years.

Excuse me, could you get him a medal?

I want my money!

I sent your money

to that goddamn Svengali,

and his lawyer sent me a paper

signed by you giving him power of attorney.

No. I didn't approve that.

Dr. Finch wouldn't do that.

Did I tell you?

What? Did you tell her what?

What did he tell you about me, Suzie Q?

That I was a little housewife

with a stupid hobby?

Well, that hobby has become quite lucrative,

thank you very much.

I was just published in Yankee Magazine.

Ma'am, I'm gonna have to ask you

to quiet down and leave.

What else did he tell you about me?

That I was crazy?

He's the crazy one.

And he's a goddamn bastard.

He doesn't even see his own son!

He's tried.

From what I hear, neither do you, Deirdre.

Shut up, you c*nt!

All right, that's it. Let's go.

Get your hands off me!

I'm leaving here.

I need a peaceful environment

to do my writing in.

Could you get me a towel, please?

Jesus. F***.

- Are you wet? Did you get wet?

- I'm fine.

Okay.

Like a sheep or a dog

that can predict an earthquake,

I've always been able to sense

when my mother is about to go crazy.

Her eyes burn electric.

Her body gives off a metallic scent.

She stops sleeping and starts developing

a taste for certain foods

like toothpaste sandwiches.

But journal, I think the worst is over.

I really do.

Hospitals make you better.

My mother is going to get better.

Dorothy's gone. She took everything.

I don't wanna be alone

so you're moving back in with me.

She's gone?

Just you and me, baby. Come here.

Augusten, hug back.

Could you make me some tea, sweetheart?

Sure.

Did I tell you I had a poem accepted

by Yankee Magazine?

Really?

That's great.

Mom, what are you doing?

Oh, I'm decoupaging my rejection letters

on top of the table here.

Why?

Well, I want a daily reminder of

my artistic journey when I become famous.

This'll keep me humble.

Mom, why did you mix your pills

with Dorothy's medicine?

Dr. Finch says that's what made you sick.

I'd rather not talk about that right now.

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