The Caveman's Valentine Page #3

I wanna know

if he can play, honey.

Please.

Fight it, baby.

Show Stuyvesant

you're not scared of him.

Play the damn thing.

One hand-me-down suit

coming up.

That was wonderful. Why

does it hurt you to play?

That was another life.

You like?

Oh.

Oh! Oh.

Romulus, what size shoe

are you?

- Uh, 12.

- Hmm.

Bob's a nine. Well, maybe

just keep 'em hidden.

There you go, Romulus.

We wouldn't want you

to freeze to death.

A toast.

Honey?

To the eternal cycles

of failure...

and reorganization, huh?

So, tell us, who is

Cornelius Gould Studebaker?

Stuyvesant.

Darling? Maybe we better not talk

about Mr. Stuyvesant right now.

Make you nervous, Bob? Something

you don't want her to know?

We wouldn't want you

to freeze to death,

I really love that one, Bob. Wouldn't

want to find you propped in a tree.

What is it?

It's a new weapon.

It's something

I've never seen before.

Z- rays.

I'm so sorry.

I- I really must be off.

If I've been impolite

or ungenerous in any way,

please, please, please,

forgive me.

I- I really must be off.

My undying gratitude

for the clothes.

Woo, what are my chances

of pulling this off?

About zero.

Rubbing bellies with zero,

unless you all simmer down!

Look at you!

You are a sight

for sore eyes.

Remember Stacy Kensinger?

Flautist, great lips.

Stacy. Stacy?

Uh, maybe she came

after you left.

Why'd you leave anyway? I mean,

nobody f***ing ever leaves Julliard.

Oh, well...

got Sheila knocked up.

Really?

That was it?

Christ, you could have

found some way.

Well, the last time I saw you

was at Lincoln Center.

The snow out here

is a different color.

- You couldn't play that day.

- Blue,

like skim milk.

You know what I think?

I think you were afraid.

You know how they say some

people are afraid of success?

Well, this therapist

I've been seeing...

thinks it's because we don't

want to surpass our fathers.

Romulus?

Rom!

Great lips,

where does it all go?

Just didn't care much

for recitals.

Hmm. Yeah.

- Lao-tse, how you doing, girl?

- Lao-tse, get down!

- She looks scary, but she's a sweetheart.

- Hi, dog, hey.

Moira.

What a magnificent day.

Hey, dog. You think

I'm running a con, don't you?

You think I'm the shoes

and not the suit.

Lao-tse, stop bothering

our guests.

You're right.

No bother.

No bother.

This is your

brilliant friend.

Hi, I'm Moira Leppenraub. I'm

David's sister. Mr. Ledbetter?

Romulus. Rom.

Lucinda!

Baby, baby boy!

Arnold tells me

you're a genius.

- At what?

- Music.

Oh, is that all?

Why? Is there more?

I can put a match

in my mouth...

and when the lights are out, I

light up like a jack-o'- lantern.

The man does not

promote me right.

Tell her about the time you

burned a hole in your tongue.

Juvenile bullshit.

Sheila, what are you

doing here?

Watching you make

a fool of yourself.

What are you

doing here?

I have to prove

Leppenraub's guilty.

- Prove to who?

- To the world.

To Lulu.

Lulu needs a father,

not some psycho Sherlock Holmes.

You're gonna get yourself

in deep sh*t.

Look at her. Like a cat

itching to get scratched.

You better watch your back,

baby.

- Shall we go in?

- I-I'll do it.

Oh, thanks.

Um, just this way.

Man on a horse.

I was at this exhibit, and

it was basically penises...

...big, small, fat, skinny...

all in pastel.

No, thank you.

Don't you watch me!

Joey!

Could you be a little less

conspicuous, please?

Sorry. Please excuse him, Mr. Ledbetter.

He's a filmmaker. I can't

seem to get rid of him.

Apparently, some people find

my life terribly interesting.

I'm David Leppenraub.

I'm honored to have you here.

And-And I to be here.

I was very flattered to hear

that my work inspires you.

- Oh, well.

- Why?

- Excuse me?

- Why do you like my work?

- Well...

- This one.

What do you think?

What do I think?

That's what I asked.

It's empty.

Empty?

So empty,

it hurts the eyes.

You see, the angel is-is looking

heavenward, but he can't see...

because Stuyvesant has sucked

out his soul and just left a shell.

He's empty.

So empty it hurts.

Now that I like, amigo.

It hurts the eyes.

Watch your head.

Does it hurt,

Mr. Ledbetter?

It's supposed to.

All great art

is born of suffering.

Tell me what you feel.

In what dark, damaged

place does it infect you?

Deep, ancestral,

primordial pain.

Shame, fear... that's

what my work is all about.

Fear and transcending fear.

Guts versus fear.

It's really all there is.

I'm told I'm something

of an expert on fear.

Let me show you this.

My latest.

What's your verdict?

Guilty.

And your evidence?

Don't have any.

Not yet.

That's a different kid,

isn't it?

It's not the same model who's

in the other shots, right?

You are perceptive.

Most people can't tell.

That's Joey, the a**hole

with the video camera.

My regular model had vertigo,

and I needed him up in a tree,

but heights

made him twitchy.

Is that right?

Who was your regular model?

He doesn't work for me anymore.

Joey took his place.

Really?

What happened to him?

What difference

does it make?

Right, what difference

does it make?

After all,

they're just bodies.

I mean, after the body's done,

just chuck it, hang it from a tree.

You playing some kind of

game with me, amigo?

This stuff could go out

of fashion real quick, right?

People find out the real story,

they don't want it in their house.

- Who the hell are you?

- Suddenly, it's not worth millions...

What do you want?

You want to blackmail me too?

Stuyvesant wouldn't

like that.

- What's this Stuyvesant sh*t?

- What's this murder sh*t?

I don't know who the hell you are,

but you listen, I loved Scotty Gates.

- Oh, I bet you did.

- Like a son.

- Why'd he run around telling people you

tortured him?- Because he went crazy.

- Why?

- How the hell should I know, I wasn't even here.

I had an opening in Cologne.

When I came back, he was gone.

His boyfriend broke up with him,

maybe that was it.

Love, it gets in your head.

Not yet! Not yet!

Love...

it-it will...

it will do that to you.

Look...

I owe you an apology.

I'm-I'm sorry.

I- I heard these rumors.

That's all right.

I suppose it's just

part of being who I am.

Wild envy surrounds me...

and rumors.

Too many goddamned rumors.

One of them actually had

the nerve to call my work...

"victim art. "

Trying to believe these stories

of oppression and cruelty.

Does it hurt?

I like you, Romulus. It's too

bad you can't be with us longer.

Excuse me?

Well, let me rephrase.

If the price of rapture...

is a mountain

of suffering,

shouldn't the fee

be paid?

So long as nobody gets hurt.

"So long as nobody gets hurt. "

I like that.

My brother likes

to hear himself talk.

You'll get used to it.

Excuse me.

He died of fright, didn't he?

Mr. Ledbetter,

is now a good time?

- For what?

- To shoot you.

I guess now is as good

a time as any.

Wow. You're really scared

of the camera, aren't you?

Camera?

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