The seminar will begin in five minutes.
It will be in room "C."
So, uh, how about Chow Yun Fat?
I don't know. I love Chow Yun Fat.
- I just don't see him playing Madman. - Awesome.
Thank you.
"To a really big fan"?
Uh, you bet.
I love this book, man. This shit is awesome!
I wish I was like these guys. Gettin' stoned,
talkin' all raw about chicks and fightin' supervillains!
I love these guys! You know what. They're like Bill and Ted...
meet Cheech and Chong!
Yeah. I kind of like to think of them...
as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern meet Vladimir and Estragon.
Yes! Who?
So, do you, like, draw this or something?
I ink it, and I'm also the colorist. The guy next to me draws it.
But we both came up with the characters. Next!
What does that mean, you "ink it"?
Well, it means that Holden draws the pictures in pencil.
And then he gives it to me to go over in ink. Next!
So, basically, you just trace.
It's, uh, it's not tracing, all right?
I add depth and shading to give the image more definition.
Only then does the drawing truly take shape.
No, no, no. You go over what he draws with a pen, all right? That's tracing.
Not really. Next.
Hey, man, let me ask you somethin'.
Somebody draws something and then you draw the exact same thing,
like, right on top of it without going outside the original designated art.
What do you call that?
- I don't know, man. Tracing? - See?
You want your book signed or what?
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!
Don't get all testy just because you got a problem with your station in life.
Oh, I'm secure with what I do.
Then just say it. You're a tracer.
How should I sign this?
I don't want you to sign it, man.
I want the guy who draws Bluntman & Chronic to sign it.
- You're just the tracer. - Tell him, little shaver.
Who do I sign it to?
You fuckin' tracer!
I'll trace a chalk line around your dead fuckin' body, you fuck!
Would you get him outta here?
Hey, wait a second! He jumped me! You fuckin' tracer!
Your mother's a tracer!
Can I explain the audience principle to you?
If you assault and accost them, then we have no audience.
He started it, fuckin' cock-knocker!
He's lucky I didn't put my pen through his thorax!
Need I remind you? Curtain's in ten minutes. Okay?
Minority Voices in Comics panel discussion...
- All right. - is about to begin in room "F."
For years in this industry...
whenever an African-American character... hero or villain...
was introduced, usually, by white artists and writers,
they got slapped with racist names...
that singled them out as Negroes.
Now, my book...
White Hatin'Coon...
don't have none of that bullshit.
The hero's name is Maleekwa, a descendant from the black tribe...
that established the first society on the planet,
while you European motherfuckers were still hidin' in caves and shit,
all terrified of the sun.
He's a strong role model that a young black reader can look up to,
'cause I'm here to tell ya: The chickens is comin' home to roost, y'all.
The black man's no longer gonna play the minstrel in comics and sci-fi fantasy.
We keepin' it real, and we gonna get respect by any means necessary.
Ah, come on! That's a bunch of horseshit!
Lando Calrissian was a black guy, you know.
He got to fly the Millennium Falcon. What's the matter with you?
- Who said that? - I did.
Lando Calrissian is a positive role model in science-fiction fantasy.
Fuck Lando Calrissian! Uncle Tom nigger!
Always some white boy gotta invoke the holy trilogy.
Those movies are about how the white man keeps the brother man down...
even in a galaxy far, far away.
Check this shit. You got cracker farm boy Luke Skywalker...
Nazi poster boy... blond hair, blue eyes...
and then you got Darth Vader.
The blackest brother in the galaxy... Nubian guy.
- What's a Nubian? - Shut the fuck up!
Now, Vader, he's a spiritual brother, you know.
Down with the force and all that good shit.
Then this cracker... Skywalker... gets his hands on a light saber,
and the boy decides he's gonna run the fuckin' universe.
Gets a whole Klan of whites together.
And they gonna bust up Vader's hood, the Death Star.
Now, what the fuck do you call that?
- Intergalactic civil war? - Gentrification!
They gonna drive out the black element...
to make the galaxy "safe" for white folks.
And Jedi's the most insulting installment!
Because Vader's beautiful black visage is sullied...
when he pulls off his mask to reveal a feeble, crusty, old white man.
They're tryin'to tell us that deep inside we all wants to be white!
Well, isn't that true?
Black rage!
I'll kill any white folks...
I lay my motherfuckin'eyes on!
"What's a Nubian?" Bitch, you almost made me laugh.
Man, what about you? You didn't tell me you were gonna scream, "Black rage!"
I nearly pissed myself.
How do you manage to get away with this all the time?
I mean, shouldn't the cops be busting your head open right about now?
- Wrong coast. - Well, this here, she full of blanks.
And, uh, Opiate gets all sorts of legal clearances before I go on.
So your publisher actually condones these theatrics?
Condones? Honey, they insist. I need to sell the image to sell the book.
Would the audience still buy the whole black rage angle...
if they found out the book was written by a, a... you know.
- Faggot? - When you say it, it sounds so sexy.
Hey, hey, hey! I'll play your victim, but not your catcher, all right?
Hooper, how come you sound like Minister Farrakhan when you're onstage...
and the king of pop when you're not?
Look out, boys! This kitten has a whip!
Always before I get to speak, you dick.
I swear! Jesus!
The next con I attend, and they ask me to be on the minority panel,
if I see your name anywhere near that list, I'm passing!
Holden, Banky, this pile of P.M.S. Is Alyssa Jones.
She does that book, Idiosyncratic Routine.
Oh, I've read your book. It's cute. Chick stuff, but cute. What?
Sorry about him. He's, uh, he's dealing with being an inker.
Oh. You trace.
I really like your book. I'm surprised we never met at any other cons before.
Yeah, well, lose the dick or change the skin tone,
and we can get to know each other on panel after panel.
These boys do Bluntman & Chronic, which outsells both of our books put together.
Hence, they're never on the panel with the likes of us.
They slummin' it right now.
I promised Alyssa I'd buy her a post-rave drink.
Do the Garden Staters have to sprint to the Lincoln Tunnel,
or can you stay for a round in the big, scary city?
- We're gonna go... - We'll take...
We'll go.
Archie. All right?
Archie and the Riverdale gang were a pure and fun-lovin' bunch.
You can't find dysfunction in those comics. They were flat-out wholesome.
- Archie and Jughead were lovers. - Shut the fuck up!
It's true. Archie was the bitch, andJughead was the butch.
That's whyJughead wears that crown-lookin' hat all the time.
He the king of Queen Archie's world.
Man, I feel a hate crime comin' on.
Well, you know, he does have a point.
I mean, Archie never did quite settle on Betty or Veronica.
'Cause he wanted them both at the same time, you assholes!
He didn't choose one, because he was trying to get them into a three-way.
- Here. - What?
I want you to go down to the corner store and buy yourself a clue.
- Go on. - Eat it, Urkel.
Uh! I done told you to watch it with that Urkel shit.
Face it, girl. Archie's a sister.
- That's it. You! - Moi?
Yeah, you. You are marching back across the street with me,
and we're gonna pick up a shitload of Archie books.
And I'm going to prove to you beyond the shadow of a doubt...
that Archie is all about pussy.
Come on!
This boy is conflicted.
I shall play mother therapist for him.
You two sit tight. We shall return promptly.
Is he always like that?
Who, him? Yeah. Ever since the third grade.
This, uh, this nun was teaching us about the Blessed Trinity, you know?
She was going on and on about the three persons in one God thing.
Father, Son, the Holy Spirit.
Banky just goes ballistic on her. They got in this huge fight.
An eight-year-old kid? How bad could it have been?
Well, have you ever seen a nun call a small child a "fucking cunt-rag"?
It wasn't pretty. Shit like that's bound to happen...
when you make a kid wear a matching tie and slacks every day.
Right. And your parochial school misadventures?
Oh, mostly limited to wine-tasting prior to mass.
Turned me into a grade school alcoholic altar boy though.
Can't tell you how many mornings after serious benders...
I'd wake up next to strange priests.
- Aren't you the sharp wit? - Sharp? No.
I'm just a fan of clergy-molestation humor.
Probably why the extended family quit inviting me to first communion parties.
Tsk. You play darts?
Uh, not professionally. You know, only in bars.
I don't know.
Maybe I should just sign one of those exclusive deals like you guys.
Your new book seems to be selling like mad.
Well, it all goes back to somethin' my grandmother told me when I was a kid.
"Holden," she said, "the big bucks are in dick and fart jokes."
- She was a churchgoer. - Oh!
The cry from the heart of a real artist trapped in commercial hell,
pitying his good fortune.
I'm sure you can dry your eyes on all those fat checks you rake in.
Oh, I'm sorry. What was that? Did I detect a note of bitter envy in there?
No, I'm happy my stuff gets read at all.
There's very little market for hearts and flowers...
in this spandex-clad, big pecs, big tits, big guns field.
If I sell two issues, I feel likeJohn Grisham.
Well, it's all about marketing.
Over- or underweight guys that don't get laid. They're our bread and butter.
People like those two outside should be yours.
And sadly, there are more of our core audience.
Kind of gives you a charge though. See two people like that in love.
And all over Banky's car, no less.
You know, that car's seeing more action right now than it's seen in years.
- Bubbly guy. It's hard to figure out. - Yeah.
You gotta respect that kind of display of affection. You know what I mean?
Sure, it's crazy. It's rude. It's self-absorbed.
But, uh, you know, it's love.
- It's not love. - Oh, says you.
That out there? That's fleeting.
- Fleeting? - Mm-hmm. Well, I gotta split.
It was really nice meeting you. Good luck with your book.
Tell Hooper I'll call him later. And... tell your friend to calm down.
Shut up already.
You shut up! You're insane.
Archie is not fucking Mr. Weatherbee!
Deny, deny, deny.
- Where's Alyssa? - She left, said she'd call you later.
Look, he's just offering to help Archie with his fuckin' homework!
Read between the lines, bitch.
Fuck this. Let's go. Traffic.
- Holden! - What?
- Let's go! - See that dent in the hood of your car?
Son of a bitch!
Let me guess. You like her.
- Who? - Miss Alyssa Jones.
- She's all right. - As long as that's all.
This is one of the best streetlights you've ever drawn.
It's the one from across the street from the post office.
- Looks just like it. - Thanks.
So, uh, what do you want to do tonight?
I don't know. Get a pizza. Watch DegrassiJunior High.
You got a weird thing for Canadian melodrama.
I got a weird thing for girls who say "aboot."
Bank Holdup.
Hooper here. Listen, I know how you 'burb fiends hate the city,
but there's a club shindig goin' down tonight I think you'd really get into.
- Where is it? - Meow Mix. I'm temping as barkeep.
Oh, I don't know, Hoop.
We're prepping the next issue. We got that stupid meeting in the morning.
- I told her you wouldn't be interested. - Told who?
Alyssa.
Alyssa from last night Alyssa?
How do you begin and end a question with the same word like that?
You got skill. Yes, that one!
She asked me to invite you. Now, here's the part where you say...
- I'll be there. - Thought so. 10:00. Later.
- Who was that? - Hooper. He invited me to a club.
Man, when's that faggot gonna learn? You like chicks.
- Not that kind of club. - So when we leavin'?
We? You can't go. He's hookin' me up with Alyssa.
- And? - And I don't want you messing it up.
I care about your shit. Maybe I'll hook up myself.
I told you. It's not that kind of club.
How does one man get to be so funny?
Look, how you gonna get home when I hook up, huh?
- Like that'll happen. - Let me explain, my witless chum.
The other night, we two, Alyssa and I,
we, uh, well, we shared a moment.
- Oh, you had a moment. - No.
We shared a moment, all right?
And in that moment, one thing was made abundantly clear.
This girl loves me, my friend.
Loves me. You know what I'm sayin'?
Ah, who's your daddy now #
Come on. Mmm.
Shut up!
All right. Bring on the free hootch.
Free? I didn't invite your tired ass. So, where's your better half?
Takin' a piss. The guy's got a bladder like an infant.
That's funny. He says you're hung like an infant.
Does his mother tell him everything?
- Hey! - What'd you do, fall in love?
- Where is she? - Over there.
Look at her in her net shirt. Been dancin'for an hour. Hasn't stopped yet.
She ain't no Deney Terrio, I'll say that.
Listen, if I'm not back by Tuesday, call my mother. All right?
Wait, wait, wait, wait. There's somethin' you should know.
- She got a boyfriend? - Well, no.
Then what's to know, my friend? What's to know?
Hey, lady! You fucked up my cabbage patch!
Well, well, well, if it isn't Bluntman himself, or should I call you Chronic?
Call me flattered. I heard you sent me the invite to this little soiree.
From a former hometown girl to Mr. Hometown himself.
You're saying you're from the 'burbs?
- Get outta here! I'm from Highlands! - I know. Hooper told me.
How is it that we never ran into one another?
- Did you graduate from Hudson? - Yeah, '88.
- I went to North. - What a small fuckin' world.
- So you know the tri-town area? - Quiz me.
- Miller Hill? - I wrote my name on the wall.
- Sandy Hook? - Lost my virginity there.
- This is so cool. The mall? - Eton preppy or Menlo Park?
Oh, no. Here's the big test. Quick Stop?
My best friend fucked a dead guy in the bathroom.
- You know that girl? - I did, before she was committed.
There's a lot of chicks in this place.
Chicks? You're such a man.
You know what this is? This is fate.
No, this is "The Rog."
I'm talking about us meeting. What are the chances?
Pretty slim. I haven't been back to the 'burbs since my friend's funeral.
- The Quick Stop girl died? - Uh-uh. Another girl.
- Julie Dwyer. She died in the... - The YMCA pool! Damn!
- You knew her too? - So well.
Wow! One friend in the asylum, the other friend in the grave.
- You're a dangerous person to know. - Ah, but I can tap.
- That's the Buffalo two-step. - Yeah, well, it's very solid.
That's what six years of tap lessons yields.
Two towns away from each other for years, we had to meet in New York.
Could have been worse. Could have not met at all.
Okay, we're back.
Thank you. Thank you.
So, a long time ago, we used to have this bass player,
who took off one day to draw funny books or something.
Maybe you've heard of her stuff? Idiosyncratic Routine?
But what a lot of people don't know...
is that she used to harbor these delusions that she could sing,
and she used to subject us to throaty renditions of Debbie Gibson tunes.
So, she's here tonight, and I think if we all beg her...
or maybe offer her some "X,"
she'll come up here and treat us to some of her vocal stylings.
What do ya say, Alyssa?
Yeah!
Oh, she's shy!
Get up here and sing, bitch!
All right! Go. Go up there.
Whoo!
Whoo! Yea!
What am I doing here? This is so fucking gay.
She is such a cunt.
You guys know the one I wanna do, right?
All right. I should dedicate this, right?
This is for that someone special out there.
Ready?
Yeah! Whoo!
Whoo!
Hot!
Now, that, my friend, is a shared moment.
- What? - It's rude.
When are we gonna get a chance to see this shit live without payin' for it?
- Sorry. It's just new to him. - Oh, and you're an old hand at this?
No, no, I should apologize. I don't normally get all mushy in public,
but it's been a while since I've seen Kim here.
You know what? I wanna dance.
Go ahead. I'll watch from here.
No! I wanna dance with you!
Don't be a rag. I have to sit here and work up the desire to fuck you later.
Please!
Yes?
You said "fuck." She said "fuck."
You said "fuck" to that girl. You said that you'd fuck her.
- And? - How can a girl fuck another girl?
Were you talking about strap-ons or something?
- Oh, Jesus. Would you shut up? - What?
It's okay.
I don't know how many times I can apologize for him.
No, Banky, I've never used a strap-on.
Then what's with saying "fuck"?
Shouldn't you say "eat her out" or modify the term "fuck" with "fist"?
Let me ask you a question. Can men fuck each other?
- You asking for my permission? - In your estimation.
Sure.
So, for you, to fuck is to penetrate.
You're used to the more traditional definition.
You, inside some girl you've duped, jackhammerin' away,
not noticing that bored look in her eyes.
Hey, I always notice that bored look in their eyes, all right?
Fucking is not limited to penetration, Banky.
For me, it describes any sex when it's not totally about love.
I don't love Kim, but I'll fuck her.
I'm sure you don't love every girl you sleep with.
Some of them I downright loathe.
Aha, but I'll bet it's different with the ones you do love.
Like, you'll go down on 'em longer.
- Here we go. - I don't do that.
- What? - I stopped. It got to be frustrating.
As stupid as you usually come off during this little diatribe of yours,
you're gonna come off ten times as stupid on this occasion.
I lost my tolerance for the baggage that comes with eating girls out.
What's the big deal?
If you say the smell, so help me, I will slug you.
Not the smell. The smell is good.
I'm talkin' about not being able to do it properly.
My mother brought me up to believe...
if I can't do something right, I shouldn't do it at all.
Of course, my father told me she gave lousy head, but that's beside the point.
Well, at least you blame yourself for your sexual inadequacies.
No. I blame them.
Chicks never help you out. They never tell you what to do, right?
And most of them are all self-conscious about the smell factor.
And, so, most of the time, they just lay there frozen like a deer in headlights.
I mean, not for nothin', but when a chick goes down on me,
I let her know where to go and what the status is.
You gotta handle it like CNN and the Weather Channel.
Constant updates.
You are such an idiot.
No, no, he's got a point. I mean, that's how I was in high school.
You know, all nervous and inhibited about being eaten out.
But by the time I got to college, that all changed.
I've loosened up.
I was like one of those guys at the airport with those big flashlights,
wavin' 'em this way, directin' 'em that way, tellin' 'em when to stop.
And that's all I'm sayin'. It would be different if chicks helped out.
You know, pointed a guy in the right direction.
There'd be no bullshit, no wasted time and no chance for permanent injuries.
Permanent injuries?
Sure. You wanna see somethin' permanent?
- See that? - Uh-huh.
I got that from Nina Rollins, sophomore year.
I'm goin' down on her, right?
Out of nowhere, her cat jumps on her.
She does this big pelvic thrust, cracks my tooth and sends it down my throat.
I had to get a crown for the stub.
I got that beat. I got that beat.
Junior year, I'm goin'down on Cynthia Slater in her dorm room.
I'm totally drunk, and in the middle of it, I fall asleep right in her lap.
She got so mad, she digs her heel into my back.
- Ow! - Right there. That's permanent.
All right. All right. See this?
That's the farthest I can move my neck to the right.
Again, sophomore year, I'm goin' out with Brandy Svining.
And for six months, I'm goin' down on her. Not a damn thing's happening.
So, one night, I change a position or vary my lapping speed,
and suddenly it's a whole new world.
She's movin' around, convulsing, breathing heavy,
and her legs are pressed up against my ears so tightly...
that I don't hear her father come into the room.
He grabs my hair and pulls me way back, hard.
Senior year, spring formal.
I'm eatin' out Missy Kurt in her brother's car.
She's layin' across the backseat. I'm half hangin' out, knees on the ground.
She's flailin' around, and she... she knocks the parking brake off.
The car starts rolling down the hill.
And my left knee is cut up to shit...
like a kiddy's scissors class cut it up for paper dolls!
Whoa! Hey! Look at the time.
We gotta... We gotta beat that traffic, huh?
What traffic? It's 1:30 in the morning.
And rush hour starts in six hours. Let's go.
Uh, thanks for inviting us out. It was educational.
Come on.
Since you like chicks, right,
you just look at yourself naked in the mirror all the time?
Look, here's the deal.
When we get in there, don't be a complete Potzer, like last night.
This is business now, okay?
Oh, why are you in such a bad mood? Still dwelling on that dyke?
- Hey, knock it off, will you? - What'd I tell you?
She just needs the right guy.
All every woman really wants is some serious deep-dicking.
Sorry.
See, that's why I can't buy lesbians.
Everyone needs dick.
See, I can buy fags, a bunch of guys that need dick.
You know, just plain need it. That I get.
Dykes? Bullshit posturing.
But, live and let live, I guess.
I'm sure the gay community appreciates your support.
We'd like to start off by saying that it is a real pleasure to finally meet you.
Absolute pleasure.
One of the reasons we started this whole thing was to finally meet the guys...
that do Bluntman & Chronic.
- Snootchie bootchies! - Huh?
Which now brings us to our proposal.
Look, fellas, the days of Butt-Head are over.
We're interested in doing 12 half-hour Bluntman & Chronic cartoons.
What do you say?
Are we in business?
The boy wonder.
Batman and Robin, the dynamic duo against crime and corruption.
Yeah, hi. Somebody told me they make comic books here,
which is so weird, because I have this great idea for a story.
It's about a guy who comes to this club and...
Hightails it when he finds out...
Ready for this?
This girl is gay.
Any interest in a story like that?
- An animated series? - Twelve episodes.
- Well, that's great, isn't it? - Banky seems to think so.
- But you don't. - Well, I...
I don't know if that's the perception I want people to have of our work.
I know this sounds pretentious as hell, but...
I'd like to think of us as artists, you know?
I'd like to get back to doing something more personal, like our first book.
Well, when are you gonna do that?
When we have something personal to say.
I weirded you out the other night.
Uh, no, not really.
- Oh, come on! - Well, it's just...
I'd never seen that kind of thing up close and personal before.
It just took a while to process.
You wanna talk about it?
If you want to.
I like you, Holden.
I haven't liked a man in a long time.
And it's not because I'm a man-hater or something like that.
It's just been some time since I've been exposed to a man that didn't...
immediately live into a stereotype of some sort.
And I want you to feel comfortable with me,
because I'd really like us to be friends.
So if there's anything you wanna know, it's okay to ask me.
- Okay. - Okay.
Okay. Why girls?
- Why men? - Well, because that's the standard.
If that's the only reason you're attracted to women...
No, it's more than that.
So you've never been curious about men?
Curious? Well, I always wondered why my father watched Hee Haw, but...
- You know what I mean. - No.
- Why not? - No interest.
- Because? - Girls feel right.
Well, that's how I feel. You know, I've never really been attracted to men.
- Well, so, you're still a virgin then? - No.
But you've only been with girls.
So you're saying a person is a virgin...
until they've had intercourse with a member of the opposite sex.
Isn't that the standard definition?
Again with your standards.
I think virginity is lost when you make love for the first time.
- With a member of the opposite sex. - Why? Why only then?
Because that's the standard. What do you want me to tell ya?
So if a virgin is raped, then she's still a virgin?
- No, of course not. - But rape is not the standard.
So she's had sex, but not the standard idea of sex.
Hence, according to your definition, she'd still be a virgin.
- Okay, fine, I'll revise. - Uh-huh.
Virginity is lost when the hymen is broken.
- Then I lost my virginity at ten. - Really?
'Cause, see, I fell on a fence post when I was ten, and it broke my hymen.
Okay. Second revision.
Virginity is lost through penetration.
Physical penetration or emotional.
- Emotional penetration? - Mmm.
I fell in love hard with Caitlin Bree when we were in high school.
Physical penetration.
- We had sex. - Yeah, but not real sex.
I move to have that remark stricken from the record,
on account of it makes you come off as completely naive and infantile.
Well, where's the penetration in lesbian sex? L...
A finger? I've had my finger up my ass. I wouldn't say I've had anal sex.
Observe.
You're kidding me! How?
Our bodies are built to pass a child, for Christ's sake.
Yeah, but I mean... Jesus! Doesn't that hurt?
- Sure, but in that good way. - Oh.
And it's only a once-in-a-while thing reserved for really special occasions.
- How about not-so-special occasions? - Tongue only.
Well, but see... Come on. That's what I'm sayin'.
It's like, how can that be enough? How big can a tongue really get?
My God.
Let's go.
Come on. Come on.
You're really gonna have to give me a minute, I think.
Would you stop futzing with your fuckin'bag? We're late already.
- I have to get something. - Look, man, we miss this train,
I'm gonna shitcan you and just hire Charles Schulz.
Oh, my God. Who are you? Larry Fucking Flynt?
- What are you gonna do with all those? - Read the articles.
What do you think I'm gonna do with 'em? They're stroke books, stupid.
You got, like, 30 books in there. We're only gonna be gone for two days.
Variety is the spice of life. I like a wide selection.
Sometimes I'm in the mood for nasty close-ups.
Sometimes I like 'em arty and airbrushed.
Sometimes it's a spread brown-eye kind of night.
Sometimes it's girl-on-girl time.
Sometimes a steamy letter will do.
Sometimes, not often, but sometimes...
I like the idea of a chick with a horse.
Go get our tickets. I gotta call Alyssa.
- His master's voice. - Put that stuff away!
Hi.
One minute, five seconds. Ah, you are such my bitch.
What's up? I'm about to get on a train.
- Oh! Why? - Last-minute invite to the Boston Con.
- Shit. - What?
Well, my sister's at my parents', and I was gonna go see her.
- The one that wrote the book? - Yeah.
But I was stayin' all weekend. I wanted to hang out with you. This sucks.
You know, um, both of us don't have to go.
- Really? - Yeah. Banky can do this by himself.
I mean, you know, it's not like we're on a panel. It's just a signing appearance.
If you come pick me up, I'll be your best friend.
Where's your apartment?
And then Black Beauty couldn't take it any longer,
and he finally did some of his own mounting.
What are you doing?
I think I want kids of my own one day. They're fun.
Listen to me. I'm not going. You're gonna have to do this one by yourself.
- What? Why? - Alyssa's comin' down for the weekend.
I'm gonna hang out with her. You don't need me for this.
Look, I'll take the bags. You can, uh, keep the filth.
I'll pick you up at 9:00 Sunday night.
Don't forget to plug the annual, and don't mention the TV show, okay?
Call me if you get bored.
All aboard!
Explain this again.
How could you have grown up on the shore and never played skee-ball?
What did you do with your youth?
Stayed out late, smoked pot, screwed around.
Not your grade school years, your high school years.
- This looks complicated. - Jesus. Potzer, uh...
- The premise is very basic, okay? - Uh-huh.
You roll the ball up the rampart in an effort to pop it into the score circle.
The higher the score, the more prize tickets you get.
Well, what do you do with the prize tickets?
You trade them in for prizes,
which are not worth nearly as much as you've paid to play the game.
- Well, what's the point? - It's fun.
And you question my lifestyle.
Observe.
See? It's just that simple.
Well, why not just walk up there and put it in the 50 every time...
- Well, where's the skill in that? - Oh, this is a skill.
I'm sorry. I had no idea.
Just toss one.
Uh, I'm sorry there, man. She's a little new at this.
Thanks. Thanks a lot.
Underhand, okay? Throw it underhand.
And this is where you take straight chicks on dates.
This place is like Spanish fly.
This will probably be the first time I don't score afterward.
I don't know. I'm starting to get a tingle in my bottom.
- Ten. - Very nice.
- So, what'd you do last night? - Got laid.
Some more of that, uh, skill you were tellin' me about?
Are you sure that control is working, Banky?
I thought you lived in the city.
It's like the umpteenth time I've seen ya here.
Isn't that grounds for the little pink mafia to throw you outta their club?
Hey! That's the last time.
Wow. How bad do you suck?
How was your pseudo date?
- Leave it alone. - That chick bugs me.
- No, everyone bugs you. - Get off!
Fuckin' faggot. Did you see that?
Your dyke-courting ass just got me scored on.
You know, you should watch that, man.
If you're gonna get so bent outta shape while playing the game...
so much so that you feel the need to curse the TV...
try not to gay bash it, all right?
You're not that kind of guy.
And don't call her a dyke. She's a lesbian. Okay?
What the fuck is goin' on here?
- I'm starting a new page? - Not with this shit! With you!
What the fuck is goin' on with you and that girl?
- We're just friends! - She's programming you!
I beg your pardon? Programming?
Yeah, and apparently you don't even fuckin' realize it.
What does it matter if I refer to her as a dyke?
Or if I call the Whalers faggots in the privacy of my own office...
far from the sensitive ears of the rest of the world?
Look, man, it's passive-aggressive gay bashing.
And I know you're not really prejudiced at heart.
I think you should find some other way to express your anger is all I'm saying.
What are you doing?
Just bear with me here. I want to put you through this little exercise.
All right, now, see this? This is a four-way road, okay?
And dead in the center is a crisp, new hundred-dollar bill.
Now, at the end of each of these streets are four people. Okay? You following?
- Yeah. - Good.
Over here we have a male-affectionate, easy-to-get-along-with,
nonpolitical-agenda lesbian.
Down here we have a man-hating, angry-as-fuck,
agenda-of-rage, bitter dyke.
Over here we got Santa Claus, and up here, the Easter Bunny.
Which one is going to get to the hundred-dollar bill first?
- What is this supposed to prove? - No, I'm serious.
This is a serious exercise. It's like an S.A.T. Question.
Which one is going to get to the hundred-dollar bill first?
The male-friendly lesbian? The man-hating dyke?
Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny?
- The man-hating dyke. - Good.
- Why? - I don't know.
Because the other three are figments of your fucking imagination!
I don't need this. I'll be hiding from your fuckin' shit in my room.
- What? - What is it about this girl, man?
You know you have no shot at getting her into bed!
Why do you bother wasting time with her?
- Because you're Holden Fucking McNeil. - Right.
Most persistent traveler on the road. That's not the path of least resistance.
Everything's gotta be a fuckin' challenge for you.
And this little relationship with that bitch...
is a prime example of your fucking condition.
Well, I don't need a magic eight ball to look into your future.
You want a forecast? Here. Will Holden ever fuck Alyssa?
Oh, what a shock. Not fucking likely.
This relationship is affecting you, our work and our friendship.
The time's gonna come when I throw down the gauntlet and say, "It's me or her."
- Then what are you gonna say? - I say you should let this one go!
No. What would you say? Would you trash 20 years of fuckin' friendship...
because you've got some idiotic notion...
that this chick would even let you sniff her panties, let alone fuck her?
Look, fuckin' asshole, I'm telling you, okay? Let it go!
What the fuck, man?
What the fuck makes this bitch all that important?
'Cause I'm fuckin' in love with her, man, okay?
Fuck.
Wish you were the one being pursued for the cartoon.
Oh, really?
Yeah, then maybe you could sell out and pick up a check every once in a while.
We're leaving?
Well, it's not like this is a bed and breakfast.
I've got a little business to conduct.
Hello there. Let me ask you a question.
Are you an authorized deal maker in this establishment?
Do you have the power to negotiate?
You wanna haggle over the price of your French dip?
No, I wanna haggle over the price of fine art.
- What do you mean? - There. By the kitchen.
See? That painting.
- What about it? - The price tag says 75.
- So? - Tell me you're kidding.
I'll give you 50.
Manuel, could you bring the Dyksiezski down off the wall, please?
My new Dyksiezski.
- Where are you gonna hang it? - I'm not. You are.
Oh? You want me to hang it for you?
You better hope it doesn't get out to the girl nation...
you needed a man to help you hang a picture.
No, no, no. You're going to hang it in your house.
- Yeah, right. - I'm serious.
- Why? - Because it's captured the moment.
It'll be a constant reminder, not just of tonight,
but of our introduction, of the building of our friendship, everything.
Make no mistake about it, my friend, it is a gift from me to you,
so you'll always remember us.
Why are we stopping?
- Because I can't take this. - Can't take what?
I love you.
You love me?
I love you and not, not in a friendly way.
Although, I think we're great friends.
And not in a misplaced affection, puppy dog way.
Although, I'm sure that's what you'll call it.
I love you. Very...
Very simple. Very truly.
You are the epitome of everything I have ever looked for in another human being.
And I know that you think of me as just a friend,
and crossing that line is the furthest thing from an option...
you would ever consider,
but... I had to say it.
I just... I can't take this anymore.
I can't stand next to you without wanting to hold you.
I can't... I can't look into your eyes without feeling that...
that longing you only read about in trashy romance novels.
I can't talk to you without wanting to express my love for everything you are.
And I know this will probably queer our friendship... no pun intended...
But I had to say it.
'Cause I've never felt this way before.
And I don't care. I like who I am because of it.
And if bringing this to light means we can't hang out anymore,
then that hurts me.
But, God, I just... I couldn't allow another day to go by...
without just getting it out there, regardless of the outcome,
which, by the look on your face, is to be the inevitable...
shoot down.
And, you know, I'll accept that.
But I know... I know that some part of you is hesitating for a moment.
And if there's a moment of hesitation, then that means you feel something too.
And all I ask, please, is that you just...
you just not dismiss that and try to dwell in it for just ten seconds.
Ah.
Alyssa.
There isn't another soul on this fucking planet...
who has ever made me half the person I am when I'm with you.
And I would risk this friendship for the chance to take it to the next plateau,
because it is there between you and me.
You can't deny that.
Even if, you know...
Even if we never talk again after tonight,
please know that I am forever changed...
because of who you are and what you've meant to me,
which, while I do appreciate it,
I'd never need a painting of birds bought at a diner to remind me of.
Oh, God.
Was it something I said?
Fuck.
- What are you doing? - Get in the car and get outta here!
- You're gonna hitch to New York? - Yep!
- Aren't you at least gonna comment? - Fuck you!
- Why? - That was so unfair.
You know how unfair that was.
What? It's unfair that I'm in love with you?
No, it's unfortunate that you're in love with me.
It's unfair you felt the fuckin' need to unburden your soul about it.
Do you remember for one fucking second who I am?
So? I mean, you know, people change.
Oh! Oh! It's that simple!
You fall in love with me and want a romantic relationship.
Nothing changes for you...
with the exception of feeling hunky-dory all the time.
But what about me, Holden? It's not that simple!
I just can't get into a relationship with you...
without throwing my whole fucking world into upheaval.
That's every relationship. There's always gonna be a period of adjustment.
Period of adjustment?
There's no period of adjustment, Holden! I am fucking gay!
That's who I am!
You assume I can turn all that around because you've got a fucking crush?
If this is a crush,
I don't think I could take it if the real thing ever happened.
Go home, Holden.
You're back with Chaz and Stu and the New Zoo Review.
As always behind us we got wacky...
I take it that's not good.
Stay here.
Be right back.
Catholic schoolgirls.
The uniform's what does it for me.
I wish I'd went with more Catholic schoolgirls when I was a kid.
As it stands, I have no "And then she unzipped her jumper" stories.
You seemed weirded-out back there.
- That's my couch you were fucking on. - Sorry.
I wanted to watch some TV. Hard to do when your best friend is...
wrapped around a naked rug-muncher on your couch.
She had boxers on.
- This is all gonna end badly. - You don't know that.
I know you. You're way too conservative for that girl.
She's been around and seen things we've only read about in books.
We have read about them, so we're prepared.
There's no "we" here.
You're gonna have to go through this alone.
It's one thing to read about shit,
something different when you're forced to deal with it on a regular basis.
When you are walking in a mall and your heads turn at a nice-looking chick,
it's gonna eat you up inside.
You'll spend most of your time wondering when the other shoe's gonna drop.
'Cause for you this isn't about cool, weird sex stuff.
It's about love.
Maybe it is for her as well.
Somehow I doubt it.
Everybody's not out to get someone in life, Bank.
Everybody has an agenda, all right? Everyone.
Yourself?
- My agenda is to watch your back. - To what end?