The Last Word Page #3

and we have to find

our own hooligan

who will benefit most

from my wisdom

and that will be

the unexpected person

whose life I touch.

Hey, kiddo.

Hey, Dad.

Didn't know

you were coming today.

Leigh Ann's not here. Right?

No, she's got her class.

The coast is clear.

Ta-da!

Oh, look.

Just what I always

wanted. Dirty clothes.

There you go.

Thank you very much.

Laundry in?

Yep.

Great.

You hungry?

No thanks.

Oh, come on.

Let me make you a sandwich.

I'm okay. Thank you.

I'm really not hungry.

I got you that tea you like.

Um, thanks.

You're still doing

the essay thing?

Yeah.

How're they shaping up?

Slow but steady.

So when was it you first

started working on those?

I can't remember.

I'm just treading water, okay?

No pressure.

I'm just... You know.

You might want to say

pencils down at some point

and actually let

somebody read them.

Like you?

Yeah, I'm sure

they're wonderful.

They're not.

Well...

See, now I think you're just

being too hard on yourself.

Would you consider yourself

to be the kind of person

who takes risks in their life?

Nah.

No.

No, your mother...

I got to admit. She was

more of a risk taker.

So is that what

we're calling it?

Well, it was a long time ago.

Why not?

Because that sounds like

what she did to us

was almost noble,

which it wasn't.

Look, you don't have to

like what she did, okay?

I mean, I didn't like it.

But obviously she

wanted something else,

and so she just went after it.

So as long as she's,

like, living the dream,

that's all that matters?

Anne... I'm happy.

Good.

Okay? Finally.

And I pray every single

day that you are too.

Hi. Excuse me,

is Mr. Samuels available

to talk for a minute?

And you are?

My name is Anne Sherman,

I work for the Bristol

Gazette. I'm a writer.

Good for you. What is

this in reference to?

Harriet Lauler.

Actually, he isn't in today.

I don't even know why I

asked who you were. No?

He's not even here.

He's not here? Okay.

Mmm-mmm.

What about Mr. Schmidt?

Mmm, sorry.

So none of them are here.

Mmm-mmm.

Great.

Brenda! Brenda!

You realize this

little stunt of yours

will take weeks to fix?

Don't need to be fixed.

My way is better.

I know you think that,

but this is what libraries do.

Just because that's

the way it's always been

don't mean I give a sh*t.

There's nothing wrong

with the Dewey Decimal System.

Having to write down

some six-digit number

with a decimal

just to find a book,

don't tell me that makes sense.

What the f*** do I

need with the decimal?

Just want to read a book.

That's the juvenile delinquent

I'll put my mark on.

You arranged every book

in alphabetical order.

You should be thanking me.

Hello.

Uh, Wanda.

You know, when you utter

profanity in public like that,

you risk others thinking

that you're too uneducated

to find the right words.

Who the hell are you?

How about, "I'm sorry.

Have we met before?"

I ain't sorry.

Just want to know who's

getting all up in my business.

Well, I know

that I am the world's

least qualified fairy godmother,

but it is me who is getting

up all in your business.

Da f***?

You see, instead of "Da f***,"

why don't you just

say, "Excuse me?"

What do you want?

What do you want?

Oh, I see.

It's community service.

You got busted for

drunk driving. Didn't you?

Now, what on Earth

made you think that?

You're white.

And you're here.

This is true.

However, I'm here

of my own accord.

No obligation at all.

To try to get to know you

and to impart my considerable

breadth of knowledge.

You want to teach me some sh*t.

You want to teach me some stuff.

Seems like we've already begun.

Oh, sh*t. Sorry.

Ugh.

Let me move this

trash.

What are you doing?

This is a collection of essays.

Yeah, they're mine.

Am I supposed to assume that you

care about things... Christ.

Besides writing

about dead people?

You can assume

whatever you want.

That's how I generally operate.

Yeah, no sh*t.

What do you care?

I never said I did care.

Okay, well, in the interest

of me getting back to my life,

what do... What do you

think your wild card

could end up being?

How about this?

"Harriet Lauler, ultimate

lover of clean cars,

"died this afternoon after

contracting a staph infection

"from inside

a Volvo station wagon."

All right.

I'll take that as a "no."

Get in the car!

No!

All right, all right,

I'm just going to

drive away with your purse.

Put this trash back here.

Bye.

Ugh!

That's what I thought.

Oh, God.

Would you like

to come in for some tea?

What? Tea! Would

you like some tea?

Sure.

Well, good. Come.

Okay.

Holy sh*t, Harriet.

Oh! I forgot I had those.

You forgot you had

an extensive collection

of records?

Yeah.

What?

You forgot about this?

Yes.

God, '50s, '60s, '70s.

Where's the rest? Did you...

Did you start collecting CDs?

No. I'd rather listen

to elevator music.

Why, because it's tinny,

and there aren't enough

nuances in the mix?

Very good, Anne.

Yeah, thanks. Analog,

I know, all the way.

I'm totally into it.

If you don't

have a CD collection,

then where's the rest

of your records?

There isn't any rest.

That's it.

Why?

Why are you so interested

in this? Really?

Yes, lam.

I would like to know.

When I was a kid,

I loved to listen to the radio.

I loved the disc jockeys.

I loved what they chose to play.

They would play something

very exploratory

and I would think,

"Yes, I like to go there."

And I would listen to the music.

Then they'd play

something really bad,

like, almost violent,

and I would take a look

at what I thought.

See what I mean?

They were in control of,

I guess, basically my

kind of budding imagination.

Wait. So, um, who was

your favorite disc jockey?

Bobby Dale. Bobby Dale.

Eclectic taste.

Minimum patter.

And really brilliant sequencing.

But then, you know,

as with everything,

music became business.

And they put the music in a box.

And then my disc jockeys

became computers.

I didn't do it anymore.

Yeah, but that still

exists, you know.

I mean, this radio station

that I listen to, KOXA,

that's exactly what

you're talking about.

The DJs get to play

whatever music they want.

They have complete control

over the music they play.

It's amazing.

Harriet, you would love it.

"KOXA, independent music

for independent minds.

"Number 107.2 on the dial.

Number one in your heart."

Hmm.

Okay.

Thanks.

Anne.

Joe Mueller.

I'm here about Harriet Lauler.

What could the ad agency do

to make the commercial better?

Why are the people cartoons?

Is this an ad for kids?

Well, no. As I

mentioned at the beginning,

if this turned into

a real advertisement,

they'd use real people.

They should use a celebrity.

I love Shelley Long.

Oh, would you just shut up?

I'm Harriet Lauler.

I'm the creative director

of this agency.

A creative director is in charge

of the creative decisions

you make in your company!

Not other people, who sit around

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