The Greasy Strangler Page #3

Peeing is private.

Yeah, usually.

But I got teeth to brush.

Go ahead, keep peeing. I won't look.

(RESUMES PEEING)

I thought you weren't gonna look.

Hey, beautiful Janet.

Oh, hey, Brayden.

Are we exclusive?

Because my dad said he watched you go pee.

Excuse me, I'm talking to you.

OK, I get it.

We're playing a sort

of silent game, right?

Do you like me?

Are you a bullshit artist?

I don't know what to think

about anything right now.

You're amazing.

(GROANING)

I'm... dying.

I'm actually... dying.

(CHOKING) Things are getting brighter.

Now they're getting slightly darker.

Sorry, mate.

I blacked out there.

Part of the dying process, I reckon.

Oh.

(GROWLING)

F*** me, this is amazing!

(SNORTING)

I've been thinking

I should spend some time with Janet.

Why, Dad?

I know women.

I don't want to see you get hurt, OK?

I should spend some time

getting to know her, alone.

Yeah, so you can be a smoothie to her

and make her love you.

Bullshit.

I just know a lot more about women

than you do.

Women like me.

Yeah? Why did Mum leave, then?

She left because you used to get

into her bed and poop all over her leg.

That's a lie and you know it.

Sorry, it's not.

She yelled it from a moving car

when she was leaving.

Bullshit artist.

You mean, meeting Ricky Prickles

with his ripped-up abdominal muscles

had nothing to do with her leaving?

That's it for you, Colonel Crapper.

- Sergeant Shizzly, you're evicted.

- Dad!

You've only got three and a half hours

to vacate the property.

No!

OK, you're not really evicted,

but you will be,

if you don't let me spend some time

getting to know Janet.

But she seems nice.

She seems like a nice, true girl.

I don't want this c*nt

to f*** you up and leave you lonely.

OK, fine, take her out.

I guess it could help.

I trust you, Dad.

I'm Big Ronnie and I'm back!

Where are you taking her?

Oh, this little night club

I took your mother to once.

Is it romantic?

Put it this way.

Is it exclusive? You bet it is.

Are there expensive

high-quality crme cocktails?

What the f*** do you think?

I'm expecting to run up

a formidable bar bill tonight.

15 bucks for a luxuriously creamy

p*ssy-ass daiquiri, motherfuckers.

That's kind of pricey for a drink.

It's not a drink.

It's liquid sex.

Just don't be a smoothie with her.

I really like this girl.

You can be a smoothie with women.

Bullshit artist.

Dad, you're a smoothie.

- Am not.

- Are too.

Well, kind of am.

You called bullshit, and you were right.

(SOBBING)

(DISCO MUSIC)

Tell me more about yourself.

I used to run a night club.

I booked all the disco acts.

I knew them personally.

One time, I had to drive

Michael Jackson to the airport,

and on the way we decided

to stop at this little blues club,

because he wanted to kick back

with a bottle of wine and a cigar.

It was a quiet night.

He was eating these delicious nachos.

And I broke into the DJ booth

and I put "Smooth Criminal"

on the sound system.

I wanted to boogie and so did Michael.

He got up and started dancing on the table

and this security guard came up

and tried to take him down,

so I punched him the f*** out.

And then this other guy comes up

and Michael hit him.

He hit him so hard, his hair fell out.

And then these two Korean twins

came on to us

so we took them into the manager's office

and we started pumping away at them.

And Michael and I were

just pumping and pumping

and then we sprayed them

with hot, milky cum

and everybody applauded.

Then he gave me one of his gloves

and I drove him to the airport.

He was going to Rome

for some top-secret meeting.

Wow.

You must have had some amazing adventures.

I should have had more

but I had Brayden to raise.

He was a horrible kid,

crying all the time.

His mother left

because he was so horrible.

He's never had a girlfriend

because he craps the bed most nights.

I was 16 when I had him.

I was a kid with a bed-crapping kid.

- I can't do that, mister.

- Why not?

Oh, no reason.

I think I might be in love with your son.

You're in love with Brayden?

Yeah.

Huh!

Kiss my juicy cherry lips.

I can't do that.

It feels weird.

Bullshit artist!

(DANCE MUSIC)

(MUSIC STOPS)

Nothing happened, I promise.

I believe you.

We just talked.

He told me about his nights

with Michael Jackson.

That wasn't the real Michael Jackson

he was friends with.

That was an MJ lookalike who used

to cruise Hollywood as a male prostitute.

He shot himself recently.

He put a gun to his head

in the middle of the street.

They say the bullet

folded his head in half.

Can I ask you something?

Is my dad a smoothie?

Did he get smooth on you?

(PHONE RINGS)

- Hello.

- MAN:
'Oh, I got some bad news.

'Oinker is dead.'

OK, so now I'm sh*t scared, Janet.

(POLICE SIREN)

BRAYDEN:
That's him, all right.

That's my best friend.

I need a time-out. Let's go to the table.

What are you thinking, Brayden?

I'm thinking I'm going to investigate

the Greasy Strangler killings myself.

No, Brayden.

That's too dangerous.

I'm not afraid of dying,

if that's what you mean.

I'm gonna find the Greasy Strangler.

He brutally murdered the Indian guy.

He brutally murdered Oinker.

I'm gonna make sure

he never murders anyone else.

I'm gonna expose the Greasy Strangler.

Then I'm gonna kill him.

(HOWLS)

What are you doing, Bray-Bray?

Gathering evidence.

I'm falling for you.

I'm falling for you hard and fast

and I'm sh*t scared.

I'm sh*t scared right now.

I've got to expose the Greasy Strangler.

This is delicious. What's on this toast?

Just oil, like you normally have.

Bullshit artist.

This isn't the oil we usually use.

Is it?

Let's just say it's new oil.

Where did you get it?

I think you have an idea

where I got it, Dad.

I think you know exactly

where I got this delicious oil.

(GROWLING)

- 'Hello? '

- Janet, it's me.

- 'What's going on?'

- Oh, nothing much, just losing my mind.

I think my dad might be

the Greasy Strangler.

- 'Do you want me to come over? '

- No, don't come over. It's too dangerous.

I couldn't bear to lose you.

I yearn for you

but I have to protect you now.

Let's have phone sex quickly.

Imagine me stroking your clitoris

with a pink feather

and then you cradle my sack.

- 'I'm tickling your sack.'

- Yes!

Come on, Rodney.

Play the game.

Oh, oh, oh...

Ooh.

'Aah.'

OK, bye.

Dad, we need to talk.

Dad?

Ronnie, is that you? I hope it is.

Let's disco.

Oh, yeah, the disco kings are back.

Yep, you called it.

(FARTS)

F***.

Oh, f***.

Tonight we're going disco-dancing.

We're gonna hit the club circuit

with a vengeance.

Can I come? I could use a boogie-woogie.

I've got the blues.

I don't know. What do you think, Paul?

Shall we bring my son along?

No way!

Absolutely not, Ronnie.

Sorry.

Yeah, I told you

he was a manic depressive.

He seems very depressed.

Yeah, he needs to be on meds, you know.

He was on meds when he was a kid.

They were brightly coloured pills

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