Session 9 Page #4

- Yeah, here's one for you, too.

- Hey, Phil... f*** you!

GORDON:
Mike, come in.

MARY:
I can't talk anymore.

I am too tired.

DOCTOR:
It appears Miss Hobbes

is now entering a dissociative state,

rubbing her eyes, appears to be

switching to an alternate personality.

Uh, yeah, I'll be there in a minute.

- DOCTOR:
Mary?

- BOY'S VOICE:
Hello, sir.

DOCTOR:
Well, hello, Billy.

How have you been?

BILLY:
Never better, sir.

DOCTOR:
Billy, where does

the Princess live?

- BILLY:
In the tongue.

- DOCTOR:
Why the tongue?

BILLY:

Because she's always talking, sir.

DOCTOR:
And where do you live,

Billy?

BILLY:
I live in the eyes.

You know that.

DOCTOR:
Remind me, though.

Why the eyes?

BILLY:
Because I see everything, sir.

DOCTOR:
And where does

Simon live, Billy?

Where does Simon live?

Hey, what's mortified pride?

Says here, three patients

were committed in 1889

because of mortified pride.

Let me see that.

Where'd you get this?

JEFF:
Under some boxes, man.

It's f***ing intense, some of the sh*t...

When Phil calls lunch,

it means lunch. Understood?

Sorry, no cartridges. I gotta go

pick some up at Grossman's.

Listen to this.

17 were committed

due to disappointed expectations.

Henry, they're talking about you.

They would've committed your ass

back then.

Hey, what do you have to do now

to get committed?

Mortify someone's pride?

Simple.

You kill someone.

Nah, that won't get you committed.

But it'll get you in jail.

If you get caught.

John Hinkley, temporary insanity.

He's not in jail. He's in a nut house.

Right, Mike?

That defense never works.

Most people are cognizant

of their actions when they murder.

Homicide implies a motive.

Oh... God, Mike.

How did you fail law school?

You're good.

Yeah, what are you, dude?

A lobotomy case?

[ Chuckling ]

PHIL:
Jeff, come on, man.

[Talking like a baby]

[Jeff giggling ]

- Hey! Hey!

- Mike!

- Mike!

- PHIL:
Mike.

C'mon, I'm just f***ing around, Gordo.

- PHIL:
Don't hurt him!

- MIKE:
It's all right.

The Ice Pick method.

Insert a thin metal pipette

into the orbital frontal cortex

and enter the soft tissue

of the frontal lobe.

A few simple smooth,

up and down jerks

to sever the lateral hypothalamus.

All resulting in a rapid reduction

of stress for our little patient here.

Total time elapsed, two minutes.

Only side effect?

Black eye.

Recommended treatment...

Sunglasses.

[ Clapping ]

Brilliant! Very good.

All right.

Let's go back to work. Come on.

I wasn't kidding back there, man.

You're smarter than this crap job.

You should be using your head, buddy.

Yeah, umm, I gotta get a part

from Gordon's van.

Make sure mullet head here

knows how to operate that thing.

Hey, Mike, come on, don't forget this.

- You know how to ride a lawn mower?

- Yeah.

Oh, then, you're golden.

Basically the same thing.

So, I don't know.

Just push it in

to that mid section there

and just start over there, all right?

I'm gonna take a smoke break.

We just had a break.

[ Soul Ecstasy by The Inner Thumb

playing ]

Hey, Jeff!

- What's up?

- You know what a whale is?

Yeah, I know what a whale is.

[ Turns down music ]

A whale is a big time gambler.

I got this buddy, right,

he deals out at Foxwoods.

12 hours,

and this whale has the house down

300 grand, right?

As this guy's leaving,

takes his car keys,

and drops them in my friend's pocket.

- HANK:
You know what they're for?

- What?

Porsche 911.

It's true, man, and that was the tip.

F***ing til?!

What's your point?

Just have an exit plan, dude.

If you stick with this job too long,

it will mess you up, man.

It gets inside of you... the stress.

You see?

Already an itty bitty piece of this sh*t

may have gotten into your lungs, man.

It incubates in your lungs,

and tissue begins to grow around it

like a... like a pearl.

Like a time bomb.

Time you hit 30... Boom!

You're drowning in your own lung fluid.

Look at you, you're not even

wearing your mask now.

- Hey, where's your mask?

- Me? Nah...

Nah, buddy,

I've learned to sublimate my fear.

'Cause I got a f***in' exit plan, man.

I have a way of dealing

with the stress.

You think Mikey reads

all those books for fun?

Nah, man, he's got an exit plan,

let me tell you.

If stress gets too intense

on this job, he'll bolt.

He's gonna go back, finish law school,

pass the bar,

get the big, juicy cases,

make his dad proud.

That's his exit plan.

Phil, Jesus...

Phil's got his stress reducer.

He's got his plan. I'm sure

he'll tell you about it someday.

Then there's Uncle Gordo.

Hey, did you know if he didn't get

this gig, he'd have to fold H.E.C.?

Yep. Man, he can't even

have an exit plan.

Fiber has always been his life.

It was over there. It is here.

Imagine that stress.

Hey, let me tell you something, buddy,

you better hope,

hope, you got some of Gordo's genes,

though. 'Cause Gordo...

Jesus, Gordo is

the Zen master of calm.

I've never seen old Gordo lose it.

I don't know, though, man.

The last few months, Gordo,

I'm seein' some cracks.

Ya know, I worry.

Mikey knows what I'm talking about,

right, Mikey?

He does have the new baby, ya know.

It should be the joy of his life, dude.

Hank, when you and Amy have a kid,

you'll see how hard it is.

Me and Amy? A kid with Amy?

Nah, I just f*** her to beat on Phil.

MIKE:
Hey, get off your ass.

I want my bonus.

[ Turns off respirator ]

[ Sighs ]

Hi, Wendy?

I know, but we need to talk.

Because we have to.

[ Generator running ]

Would you let me finish?

Would you...? Hello?

[ Generator running ]

[ Birds chirping ]

[ Crickets chirping ]

Baby needs a new pair of shoes.

Let's do this thing.

[ Jazz music playing distantly ]

HANK:
Silver.

Yeah, baby, gold, gold.

[ Hank laughing ]

F***ing eyeballs.

Jesus Christ!

They ought to be worth something.

All right.

[ Loud thump]

[ Jazz playing from headphones ]

[ High-pitched noise ]

[Groans]

HANK:
Yeah, baby, check that out.

What the f*** is that?

[ Chuckles ]

[ Music plays from headphones ]

[ Gasps ]

[ Movement behind Hank ]

[ Hank gasping ]

[ Loud clanging ]

[ Hank gasping again ]

[ Rattling fence ]

[ Hank hits a fence ]

God!

F***ing birds!

[ Hank continues to gasp ]

Jesus.

Oh, damn.

[ Hank yelps ]

[ Heavy breathing ]

[ Water dripping ]

[ Insects buzzing ]

JEFF:
So what's the verdict?

GORDON:
I'm getting nothing here.

He's not even left

his answering machine on.

JEFF:
You a...

- JEFF:
You try Amy's yet?

- GORDON:
Do you know her number?

Okay, I'll try information.

No, f***, give me the phone.

Huh?

I know the number, Gordon.

Give me the phone!

PHIL:
Thank you.

Hi! Hi, it's me. Yeah, uh...

Wait... Wait a second. What?

What are you talking about?

When? When?

Slow down. When did this happen?

Really?

No, no, no. No, no, no. No, no.

You hang in there.

I'll call you back.

Well, our favorite piece of sh*t, Hank,

went to Amy's last night,

packed his car,

told her that he found his meal ticket,

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