Urbania Page #2

What is your story?

No.

Distract me, Matt.

Take me out of my own head

for two minutes.

Her name was clara.

Early 40s, beautiful.

Lover of jazz

and Bourbon Sours.

Woman:
These are what

catherine DeNeuve drinks.

Bourbon Sours.

Read that in an interview.

I was beautiful once.

What are you talking about?

You're still

a beautiful woman.

If ol' catherine were married

to the thing that I'm married to,

and had given birth

to these American monsters,

she wouldn't look

too good either.

She goes on like this.

Those miserable kids...

they cruise the web

for porno sites.

And now

these American kids

can't be a second

without entertainment.

Always.

They have their remote mentality

in their head, you know?

Always looking

for something better.

Like their father, always looking

for something new.

And if you're not attending to

them, they click you off.

My husband

is f***ing around on me,

a redundancy

with no cash value.

Don't say that.

Shut up, it's true.

And then she stares at me,

and I mean, stares.

I get an immediate bone,

I must admit.

And then she puts a crisp 50

down on the bar.

For you.

Why? I haven't done anything

to deserve that.

Not yet.

What's your name?

My name, um, Matt.

Matt.

Show me.

- Matt.

- I'm sorry, show you?

Join me a minute in the bathroom

and show me what you have.

No.

I'm sorry, no.

Clearly a woman for whom

"no" was for the right price...

"Yes."

No woman ever wanted

to just use me.

I appreciated that.

So?

Well, it was getting to be

a ridiculous amount of money

for one simple flash.

That's all she wanted

after all.

I went home and pulled

the pud good night.

Jesus.

Anyway, about three months later

I get a certified letter.

I never got

one of those before.

Saying clara and that husband

of hers had gone on a vacation.

She got one of those

airline insurance policies

and named me

as the beneficiary.

Their plane blew up.

That stool

you're sitting on,

is mine.

So believe me,

I hold no objection

to human needs.

Wow.

Wow, now I want to see.

Bye, Matt.

Hey, thanks, guys.

Good night.

Human needs, man.

Yeah, look...

No objections, right?

It's for your help.

Dick.

This guy, he's...

someone you might

remember seeing in here.

What does

he look like?

Well,

he was born

with all the right stuff.

Good looking, huh?

Yeah, but he's fast approaching

the flip side of sexy.

He doesn't

take care of himself.

He's reckless,

for now, though.

Gotcha.

He's got a tattoo.

A big one.

- A snake...

- Wrapped around a heart?

Squeezing.

That's the guy?

Don't worry,

I know about the girl.

Is he hanging

with any guys lately?

No.

Any particular days?

Times?

No. Late.

Okay.

I'll see you later then,

all right?

You sure he's what

you're looking or?

Yeah.

Don't worry,

I got everything under control.

Hey, what do you

want to do?

Do you want to do what,

honey bun?

Come on, little girl.

Hey, it's charlie...

Oh my God!

I was in the neighbor...

Please, oh my God,

she'll catch her death!

It rained on her.

My my my,

look what the cat...

yadda yadda yadda.

- I thought I'd say...

- Hey.

Oh, you're wet.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Come in from the rain.

At last. Hey!

Great.

Yeah.

# He wanted big beehive hair #

# Big beehive hair #

Hey, hey, darling!

Let's get you

out of these things.

Don't worry about me.

Oh, but I do.

I lie awake at night thinking,

"What's become of him?

Is he wet?"

What?

Brett, are you

expecting company?

Oh God!

Yuck!

Hey, charlie, you just

thumbed out a family member.

It's yours.

You preserving it?

Eat me.

Please.

Elderly woman:
No, we don't

want... Oh, dear.

Oh my, Vivian.

Poor little Vivian.

We got to get you dry.

We don't want the little girl

to catch pneumonia.

We've got to get you dry.

Oh dear...!

Oh, no. Oh no.

I just heard a sneeze.

Oh my baby had a sneeze.

You'll catch your death.

Oh, we're going

to make you dry.

Did this warm you up?

- Sure.

- Look.

Oh God.

So, what have

you been up to?

What have you

been up to?

Oh, I missed you,

charlie.

- I'm sorry.

- Don't be.

I am.

That's just the old girl

next door's microwave.

- Vivian!

- She's nuts.

So...

So.

Are we all talked out?

I'll tell you what

I've been doing.

I have been having

an intimate relationship

with my VcR.

Renting all these groovy,

early 70's British stuff.

And for some reason

Glenda Jackson is in

every single one of them.

You know who she is?

Of course you don't.

You're movie illiterate.

Yes, I know who

Glenda f***ing Jackson is.

Charlie's getting a boner.

Anyway, last night

was "Sunday Bloody Sunday."

Did you ever see it?

Glenda and Peter Finch

are both in love

with Murray Head.

And they both make do

while he flits back and forth.

It is, after all, the 70s.

And Murray being the butt plug

that he is,

doesn't see the problem,

until one day Glenda says,

"I've had this business,

anything is better than nothing.

There are sometimes

when nothing

has to be better

than anything."

How are you doing?

He said, "Biting the bullet."

How Stella Dallas of you.

Do you know who

Stella Dallas is?

F*** you.

You don't, do you?

You're so butch.

Brett, not all of us

are into drawing tea roses

and collecting

Depression glass.

That I left

to you and chris.

Oh, the portion of our program

where we discuss him.

Oh, that look.

Look.

Cold.

Up.

All right.

Now you're protected.

Listen,

I'm here for you.

Of course you are,

you're not here for you.

This is strictly

a penance visit.

Who'd you kill, charlie?

Well, I am scoring

high tonight.

Still in mourning, huh?

Still seeing...

what's her name, Renee?

I'm not going

to a therapist

who survived Auschwitz.

Okay?

I felt so guilty

talking about my problems.

Forget me,

what you've been through...

Besides, I think I found him.

Who?

The guy who's going to make

everything right.

So you see,

I am recovering.

Great, where'd you meet him?

If I tell you that, you'll think

I'm this cheap thing.

No, I won't, I swear.

In the street.

You whore!

Right out in the open

like that.

- What's his name?

- I didn't ask.

Oh my God.

Yeah, we had this one

fateful encounter.

You're the worst.

Yeah, I wish.

Last week I saw him

coming out of this bar.

And?

- I didn't have the guts.

- Poor charlie.

No, not any more.

Not this time.

I just went back.

And?

He wasn't in...

yet.

So, I...

came here...

in the interim.

No, I wanted to see you.

Thanks.

Thanks.

So...

I think down deep you would be

glad if you saw him.

Good luck, honey.

I only wish

the best for you.

Okay, what's wrong?

I hate this.

I know you do.

No.

You see, I'm blind

in my right eye now.

So boring.

You know what

really makes me pissy?

Grunge, heroin chic

and dying are over.

I so hate being

behind the curve.

Tourism's up.

Are you okay?

Why don't you,

I don't know,

write a column for the magazine?

"The View From My Window,"

"Vintage Videos,"

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes