Small Apartments

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Knock it off!

Knock it off, a**hole!

Knock it off!

You hear me, Franklin?

You blow that horn again, I'm

gonna screw it in your ass!

Hey! Watch out!

How many times do

I gotta tell you?

That horn is a f***in' menace.

Don't you get it?

Good morning, Mr. Allspice.

Can't you maybe get a little

respect? Just a little?

I assumed you'd

left for your walk.

You assumed?

It relaxes me.

Why don't you go to the zoo

and listen to an elephant fart?

That would relax you, no?

You know, it stinks in there.

What a f***in' idiot.

My name is Franklin.

I haven't always lived here.

In this apartment, I mean.

'Scuse me.

In fact, not so long ago,

my life was very different.

That was when I used to

live with my brother, Bernard.

But then he took up residence

in the psych center.

So now I live alone.

Well, except for my dog.

Hello.

Every day, Bernard sends me

an envelope that contains

one cassette tape,

and an assortment

of toenail clippings.

You should kill yourself.

I don't take everything

Bernard says as gospel,

because he was

basically diagnosed "insane"

by Dr. Sage Mennox, himself.

And he's been on Oprah.

Hey, little bro!

It's me again.

Big brother Bernard. Back for

another installment of truth.

Another daily nugget

of recorded wisdom.

Very excited, Franklin.

Really, really jazzed.

Lately, I don't know how to explain

it. My head is just, it's filled

with mind-blowing,

fantastical sh*t.

Listen, Franklin, I heard

from God again last night.

God wanted me to pass

along a message to you.

He wanted me to tell you,

"You're being watched. "

I know you, Franklin.

Don't panic.

Yeah, it might be a threat,

but maybe it's just a warning.

You know? Maybe it's just, maybe it

just means he's watching over you.

I asked him to clarify,

but I'm just the delivery boy.

I'm the string

between the tin cans.

I don't rate an explanation.

Mmm-hmm.

But you know what I told him?

I said God would have

a lot more credibility

if he didn't always pick crazy

people to be his messengers.

Franklin,

sanity is wasted on the sane.

That's George

Bernard Shaw for you.

Anyway, about the toenails.

Don't worry. There's plenty

more where those came from.

I think this apartment's

too small for me.

Maybe I should

leave this place.

Go someplace where

people appreciate my music.

What do you think,

Mr. Olivetti? Hmm?

Hey, Tommy Balls.

What are you doing?

Working on

today's project, baby.

What time is it?

Uh, 10:
32.

Ugh.

You wanna f***?

That was yesterday's project.

You want a wake and bake?

I told you last night,

I'm in the middle

of a 40-day cleanse.

I'm ridding myself of all my

herpes.

So...

Herpes?

No toxins are allowed

to enter this temple.

Herpes.

I wish I could

talk to Bernard.

He's smart.

He was an accountant at that

big law firm. Weiner and Fish.

He wasn't always crazy.

In fact, he was

almost always not crazy.

He had lots

of girlfriends, too.

Girls love Bernard.

Whoo-hoo! Ha!

Mmm!

Hey, it's how you

weed out the tight-asses.

See, uptight

chicks refuse to bowl.

They don't bowl,

they don't roll.

Know what I mean?

You know what I mean?

Nice roll, baby. She's up.

Frankie.

You know what I mean?

Yeah, he knows!

Oh, yeah.

I had no idea

what Bernard meant.

What are you looking for?

Scissors.

Sweet. I thought you

were building that bong...

Gravity bong.

Never have just one goal for

the day, baby. I'm multitasking.

You know, you should

have just one goal.

'Cause if you

have a lot of them,

you're just gonna

f*** some of them up.

That's just common sense.

No, that's fallacious.

Success is based on the same

primal principle of ejaculation.

You shoot millions

of sperm and only

one egg gets fertilized,

right?

The more you shoot, more

chances something'll stick.

It's like, my motto.

My motto is never

go into an orgy,

ass up.

Bye, Tommy Balls.

Bye, babe.

Sh*t.

Mr. Olivetti,

what am I gonna do with you?

I guess I could

toss him out the door.

No.

That's not the best idea.

I could bury him.

Ugh...

I suppose I could carve

him into little pieces.

Put the pieces in

garbage bags and toss

them into dumpsters

all around the city.

Oh, God!

I can't do those things.

It's hopeless.

May I interrupt?

I'm hopeless.

Olivetti lives alone.

Wait till it gets dark, then

make it look like a suicide.

That's a pretty good idea.

Yo!

Hey, Fred, it's Tommy Balls,

your neighbor.

Dude, what's that smell?

My name is Franklin.

Right. Hey, do you have one of

those empty plastic pop bottles?

No.

Come on,

bro, help a brother out.

Ah.

Dude. Unhook the chain, man.

You're compromising the bottle.

Unlock the f***ing door.

What are you two morons doing?

You know, mind your own

business, you inveterate douche.

Have you talked

to Mr. Olivetti today?

He was supposed to

come by and fix my sink.

He can't. I killed him.

He's lying dead on the floor.

I was just asking. You don't

gotta be a f***ing dick about it.

Why don't you put

a f***ing shirt on, too?

Hey, listen, why don't you try

shutting your yap for a minute?

You know what, old man? You

know you should try some yoga,

or maybe a 40-day

cleanse or something.

Just be a lot easier sticking

this fork in your throat.

Whatever.

Huh.

Old motherf***er.

What a f***in' idiot.

You're lucky I got

sh*t to do today.

I don't know why

he's f***ing with me.

Motherf***er.

He's a pain in my ass.

Thank you, Killer.

Listen, could you

tell me, Killer, how your

fabulous boxing

career started?

Well, I started boxing as a kid

in my neighborhood in New York.

One day I was

sitting at home, my mother

asked me to take

the garbage out.

So I punched her

in the mouth.

Ugh.

'Cause we didn't have

a lot of money at that time,

we had to keep my mother

on as a sparring partner.

That didn't work

out too good, though.

She kept falling

out of the wheelchair.

Oh, the keys.

I can do it. You can do it.

Whoa.

The crowd was out

there, they were yelling.

I threw a left and a right. A

left and a right. A couple of...

He's probably jacking off

behind the counter.

Hey!

Open the goddamn door!

Hey.

Yeah, take your

sweet-ass time, dude.

Is Tommy back there?

He's on tomorrow.

I need some smokes.

No can do. Had the cops

in here the other day.

Really?

Are you sure about that?

Simone.

That might get you

a sip off my beer,

but for $6.75 a pack,

I'm gonna have to cop a feel.

It's not my fault your

cigarettes are overpriced.

Maybe for a joint.

Okay.

But it's gonna have

to be a good squeeze.

Nice.

Hey, Artie.

Where's the Moxie?

Same place it always is.

Last case, bottom shelf.

Thanks, Artie.

That was like two seconds.

Well, it's as good as it gets.

And I need matches.

Hey, Artie. Found 'em.

Great.

Thanks, Artie.

Hey, I know you.

You live across

the building from me.

I'm going home now.

You wanna walk with me?

Okay.

I see you by your window

with your big binoculars.

Mr. Peepers.

It's okay,

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