London Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the London script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Jessica Biel movie.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of London. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

Swing on back to Drew's Script-O-Rama afterwards for more free movie scripts!

London Script


  

  

 

                   

Tell me when you're gonna come.



 

                   

- Are you coming? You're coming?

- Yeah.



 

                   

Hello.



 

                   

Hey, bro, what's up?



 

                   

I'm crashed out.



 

                   

What are you doing?



 

                   

What party?

What are you talking about?



 

                   

Are you fucking kidding me?



 

                   

Are you fucking kidding me?



  

                   

Where?



  

                   

Fuck!



  

                   

Fuck!



  

                   

The number you have reached has

been disconnected. If you feel you...



  

                   

No fucking way!



  

                   

Where's the phone? Payphone.



  

                   

Straight to the back,

past the bathrooms, on the left.



  

                   

Hey, Mallory.



  

                   

Oh, hey, Syd, what's up?



  

                   

You gonna go

to Becca's thing tonight?



  

                   

Yeah, you know, I was gonna go

and say goodbye.



  

                   

Why, you going?



  

                   

Yeah, I think so.

Thinking about it. Yeah.



  

                   

So you still talk to London?



  

                   

Yeah, you know,

here and there. Why?



  

                   

Oh, you know, I was just a little

surprised to hear she was moving.



  

                   

Did she get a place out there?

Is she staying with somebody?



  

                   

She didn't tell you where

she was staying? Come on, Mal.



  

                   

I mean, she said something

about moving in with her boyfriend...



  

                   

...or something, but, I mean,

that's pretty much all I know.



  

                   

- Can I get you a drink?

- Yeah.



  

                   

Can I have a vodka? A large one.



  

                   

Naked, please.



  

                   

Excuse me. One second here.



  

                   

Here you go.



  

                   

Thanks. Hey, look, I didn't...

I didn't mean to be rude.



  

                   

It's okay.



  

                   

- Hey, Syd, I gotta go cash out, so...

- Yeah.



  

                   

- See you tonight.

- Yeah.



  

                   

Listen, I'm gonna get a bit of sniff,

so if you want some, just let me know.



  

                   

- Oh, really?

- Yeah.



  

                   

How much is it?



  

                   

Oh, no, don't worry. Just find me.



  

                   

Don't tell London.

You know she hates that shit.



  

                   

Yeah, like I'm gonna say something.



  

                   

- All right, well, see you later.

- Yeah, I'll see you.



  

                   

Your name wouldn't happen

to be Bateman, would it?



  

                   

- Unfortunately, yes.

- Hey. Syd.



  

                   

Nice to meet you.

Thank you for coming down.



  

                   

I know you don't deliver this far down.

I just had a shitty day.



  

                   

I have to clear my head out.



  

                   

No worries, mate.



  

                   

So where do you wanna do this?



  

                   

We don't want to go in the bathroom.

It's horrendous in there.



  

                   

I drove. You wanna use my car?



  

                   

Your car? Why not?



  

                   

So how is this shit? It's pretty good?



  

                   

Can't say I've sampled

any of this batch...



  

                   

...but considering the source,

I imagine it to be pretty clean, yeah.



  

                   

So is this like a full-time gig for you?

A full-time job?



  

                   

No, mate, I'm a banker.



  

                   

Foreign exchange dealer.

Currency trader.



  

                   

- Currency trader?

- Euros, pounds, arbitrage, yeah.



  

                   

Okay, so you're not a dealer.



  

                   

Mate, I ain't a fucking dealer.



  

                   

Strictly a buyer.



  

                   

I was uptown, you were on my way.

It's just a favor.



  

                   

Gotcha. Well, whatever it is,

I really appreciate it, man.



  

                   

Here we go.



  

                   

So a currency trader, huh?



  

                   

How's the money in that, good?



  

                   

Not if you get stuck on this shit, no.



  

                   

Yeah, I know.

God, what a stupid fucking drug.



  

                   

I don't know what you're doing after

this, if you got plans or anything...



  

                   

...but a friend is having a party two

blocks from here, if you're interested.



  

                   

No, thanks, mate,

but I've had a shit day, believe me.



  

                   

I just figured, you know,

you came down this whole way.



  

                   

It'll probably be pretty good.



  

                   

What kind of party is it, exactly?



  

                   

Actually, it's a...



  

                   

It's a going-away party for this girl,

for my ex-chick.



  

                   

But it'll be good, you know,

free booze, free food, hot chicks.



  

                   

I really shouldn't. Thanks anyway.

I appreciate the offer.



  

                   

Fuck it, Syd. I'm gonna go.

Take it easy.



  

                   

Why are you gonna go?

Don't go. You just got here.



  

                   

You walked all the way down here.

Why leave?



  

                   

Because I've had a horrendous day.



  

                   

I've decided not to go because I don't

want to meet a loft full of strangers.



  

                   

- You enjoy yourself.

- Come in for five minutes.



  

                   

- Get a drink.

- No, man. You go, fuck it.



  

                   

What do you got

that's better than this?



  

                   

Girls, free booze, do a line.



  

                   

I've just come out of the most

psychotic therapy session...



  

                   

...l've had in fucking years.

Almost smacked some cunt for a taxi.



  

                   

I really don't know

if I'm ready for this shit.



  

                   

Just come in for five minutes.

You don't like it, you can leave.



  

                   

One fucking drink, bro.



  

                   

Mallory will be here.



  

                   

One drink?



  

                   

One fucking drink.



   

                   

- How you doing, man?

- Evening.



   

                   

- What is it,     ?

- Yes.



   

                   

Thanks, man.



   

                   

- Hey, Maya.

- Hi, Syd.



   

                   

- How you doing?

- Good.



   

                   

- It's been a while.

- Yeah. How you doing?



   

                   

I'm good.

Bateman, this is Maya. Sorry.



   

                   

- Maya, Bateman.

- Nice to meet you.



   

                   

How you been?

What you been up to?



   

                   

In hell, man. I fucked up on the SATs,

I gotta retake them.



   

                   

- That's it, you know?

- Right.



   

                   

Just wanna kill myself. Yeah.



   

                   

Well, you know, if you want to get out

of SAT mode, I picked up a lot of:



   

                   

- You know, so...

- Are you dealing now?



   

                   

Yes, I'm dealing. No, I'm not dealing.

I got more than I need, so if you're...



   

                   

- All right, man, thanks.

- Just come find me.



   

                   

- I might take you up on that.

- Did anybody...?



   

                   

Coming.



   

                   

- Hello.

- Hello.



   

                   

- Hey, baby.

- How are you?



   

                   

- I'm good. Hey, Syd, how are you?

- This, my darling, is for you.



   

                   

Oh, you guys, shut up. Thank you.



   

                   

- You know you are the best.

- Nobody's here yet.



   

                   

Grab a drink.

Make yourself at home.



   

                   

Hello? Syd and London.



   

                   

- Don't disrespect them in public.

- In public.



   

                   

Let's go upstairs.



   

                   

Why? Who's upstairs?



   

                   

Very bad. Catch me.



   

                   

You're crazy.



   

                   

What is this?



   

                   

It's for you.



   

                   

- For me? For me?

- For you.



   

                   

Oh, my God, Syd, I love it.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

I love you.



   

                   

I love you.



   

                   

Come on, "I love you too, London,"

you fucker.



   

                   

You can say it.

I'm not gonna tell anybody.



   

                   

- London, don't.

- What? What am I doing?



   

                   

- This.

- What am I doing wrong?



   

                   

Whatever this is, this obsession

to put a verbal label on everything.



   

                   

- It's not about words.

- No, it is about words.



   

                   

Because if we didn't have words,

we'd be living in caves...



   

                   

...and still talking with our hands.

- Stop.



   

                   

We haven't even

come close to a fight.



   

                   

If we can avoid that first fight,

by theory we'll never fight.



   

                   

Okay? Please.



   

                   

It's been so perfect till now.

Don't do this.



   

                   

It's been perfect for you. For you.



   

                   

London.



   

                   

Coming.



   

                   

Wait a minute,

someone's at the door.



   

                   

- Hello.

- Hi.



   

                   

Wow, you look beautiful.



   

                   

You look hot.

Nice hat, nice boots.



   

                   

Thanks.



   

                   

- Hey.

- Hey, Becca.



   

                   

- Rebecca.

- Bateman. Friend of Syd's.



   

                   

- Nice to meet you.

- Nobody's here yet, guys.



   

                   

So just come on in

and make yourself at home.



   

                   

Okay, so you're not gonna believe

who's just fucking shown up.



   

                   

Great party, mate.



   

                   

Oh, it'll be better. It'll be better.

Trust me. I promise you.



   

                   

Okay, I've gotta go.



   

                   

Please tell me

you did not bring Syd here.



   

                   

Oh, my God, I just rode up

in the elevator with him.



   

                   

- Why? He's not invited?

- He's so not invited.



   

                   

He's fucking touching

my Buddha's head.



   

                   

Hey, London, it's me.



   

                   

Give me a call as soon

as you get this, okay? Okay, bye.



   

                   

Fuck it.



   

                   

Hey, Syd. Do us a favor, yeah?

Don't touch the Buddha.



   

                   

Okay?



   

                   

He's a fucking cocksucker.



   

                   

Where did you get your hat?



   

                   

It's so cute on you.



   

                   

He's fucked.



   

                   

To show up at someone's party.

He isn't even fucking invited.



   

                   

Did they just go upstairs?



   

                   

Right. Nice. Nice of them to ask.



   

                   

Wait, I'm confused, did you say

you do believe in God or you don't?



   

                   

"God" might not be

the appropriate word for it, actually.



   

                   

It's more of an epiphany.



   

                   

Epiphany?

What was your epiphany?



   

                   

Well, for me, an epiphany

is when you really see the universe...



   

                   

...in all it's splendor and beauty...



   

                   

...and you suddenly

understand everything.



   

                   

- What does that mean?

- Fucking everything.



   

                   

Everything you can imagine. You don't

know what "everything" means?



   

                   

I know what it means. I don't know

what you mean by "everything."



   

                   

It means everything, doesn't it?

You know, everything.



   

                   

- So, what's your problem?

- For someone who's seen the infinite...



   

                   

...you're vague. You'd think

with someone who's had a revelation...



   

                   

...you'd be more specific.

- It's not about specifics.



   

                   

It's an energy that hits you between

the eyes and you're enlightened.



   

                   

- You see everything?

- You don't see everything.



   

                   

You see nothing.

But you understand everything.



   

                   

And you know what

got me the most?



   

                   

- Is that I understood time horizons.

- What's a time horizon?



   

                   

It's like this. I understood

where I stood in relation...



   

                   

...to where the Romans and the Jews

were      years ago...



   

                   

...and why I was here now.



   

                   

Then I felt this enormous

compassion...



   

                   

...for the struggle of the human race

and what it had to go through for us.



   

                   

You know, for life as we know it

to come to this point.



   

                   

It's truly remarkable, but at the same

time, it's utterly fucking disturbing.



   

                   

I mean, we're the same people

that were living in Roman times...



   

                   

...throwing boiling oil on each other

and crucifying Christians.



   

                   

Not that that's entirely a bad thing.



   

                   

Hey, Syd, are you in there?

It's Maya.



   

                   

Oh, fuck! Fuck me.



   

                   

- Fuck, fuck. Give me one second.

- What the fuck have you done?



   

                   

- Sorry. Fuck.

- You clumsy bastard.



   

                   

- What have you fucking done?

- Shit.



   

                   

Look at that.



   

                   

It's covered in fucking beer.



   

                   

- Fuck.

- Oh, my God.



   

                   

What are you gonna do?



   

                   

- Goddamn it, Syd.

- Instant karma.



   

                   

- I got it.

- That's enough to give up blasphemy.



   

                   

- Get up here.

- No, we can totally save this.



   

                   

What are you gonna do,

eat food off the floor?



   

                   

- Fucking gross.

- Do me a favor.



   

                   

- God fucking damn it.

- God, is this it?



   

                   

- Yes.

- Are you kidding?



   

                   

- No, it's my fucking fault too.

- Just snort it off the floor.



   

                   

You don't wanna do that. I shouldn't

have put it by the fucking sink.



   

                   

What are you doing?



   

                   

- What's that?

- As I said, all is not lost.



   

                   

- Bateman, Jesus Christ.

- Oh, my God, you fucking rock.



   

                   

- Do you know this painting?

- No.



   

                   

It's Van Gogh's

Wheatfield with Crows.



   

                   

The most significant painting

the man's ever painted.



   

                   

- Oh, well, then.

- Fuck, it's true.



   

                   

That'll do for starters, won't it?



   

                   

Look, this is the last painting

the man did before he killed himself.



   

                   

It's his suicide note. He even put

his left ear in the fucking clouds.



   

                   

There is his mutilated left ear.



   

                   

Can you see it? Not everyone sees it,

of course, but there it is.



   

                   

He mutilated his left ear

and put it in the fucking painting.



   

                   

What does that mean?



   

                   

Maya, I'm curious.

Do you believe in God?



   

                   

You guys have been doing

too many drugs.



   

                   

Answer the question. Yes or no?



   

                   

God, that's a really long

conversation...



   

                   

...but I will tell you something I read

the other day that freaked me out.



   

                   

I don't remember where it was.



   

                   

It was like Russia or Germany

or one of these places...



   

                   

...but these scientists,

they took this pregnant rabbit...



   

                   

...and they hooked up to,

like, a heart monitor and an EE G...



   

                   

...which sensors your brain waves.



   

                   

And, like, the second after she gives

birth, they take these babies...



   

                   

...and they jump in a van

and they start shooting them...



   

                   

...one by one in the back of the head

with, like, a.   rifle.



   

                   

From, like one mile away:



   

                   

Five miles away:

Twenty miles away...



   

                   

Don't tell me people are

killing little bunny rabbits.



   

                   

What's so interesting

is that every time they'd shoot...



   

                   

...one of these poor babies

in the back of the head...



   

                   

...the mother's heartbeat

and brain waves would go crazy.



   

                   

So I'm just saying there's,

you know, shit like that, and then...



   

                   

The mother knew the babies

were getting shot...



   

                   

Yes. Every fucking time. Exactly.



   

                   

I mean, there's all that stuff, you know,

like those weird identical twins, right?



   

                   

One of the brothers is

walking down the street...



   

                   

...gets stabbed

by some serial killer.



   

                   

Wait. So he gets stabbed, right?



   

                   

And then     miles away,

at the exact same time...



   

                   

...his twin brother falls down.



   

                   

Weird, it's very weird, yes.



   

                   

Do you want to let me finish

what I'm saying?



   

                   

- Please, please, finish.

- Okay, he falls down.



   

                   

Gets hospitalized

due to heart palpitations...



   

                   

...at the same time

his brother was stabbed.



   

                   

- Why are you shaking your head?

- You sound like London.



   

                   

- It's coincidence.

- How is it a coincidence?



   

                   

I've had this conversation before.

I'm not having it here.



   

                   

Well, then, let's not. Then don't

ask me about God, okay, Syd?



   

                   

Hey, is London here yet?



   

                   

No, I don't think so.



   

                   

Did you meet her boyfriend?



   

                   

Yeah, a couple of times. He's nice.



   

                   

Is he, like, an attractive guy?

Is he good-looking?



   

                   

Are you asking me

if he's an attractive guy?



   

                   

I guess.



   

                   

You guess?

What do you mean, you guess?



   

                   

I mean, I guess.



   

                   

All right, so I'm curious. Do you think

he's more or less attractive than me?



   

                   

Syd, I don't know.



   

                   

Well, you do know.

You just aren't telling me.



   

                   

I don't know, Syd. You guys just...

You have totally different looks.



   

                   

All right, yes.

We have very different looks.



   

                   

But whose do you like more?

His or mine?



   

                   

This is stupid, Syd.



   

                   

Okay, fine.



   

                   

I guess, on some level,

I find him attractive.



   

                   

That doesn't mean that I find him...



   

                   

...any more or less attractive

than I find you.



   

                   

Okay?



   

                   

I won't lie to you.

Just because we're going out...



   

                   

...doesn't mean I'm gonna,

you know...



   

                   

...suddenly not be attracted

to the opposite sex.



   

                   

He's a friend

who happens to be attractive.



   

                   

It was one lunch.

Why are you freaking out?



   

                   

You don't see me going to lunch

with a bunch of attractive people.



   

                   

Okay. First of all,

it was one guy, not a bunch.



   

                   

And it's really not my problem that

you don't have female friends, is it?



   

                   

Because no one's stopping you

from having female friends.



   

                   

I love this, by the way.



   

                   

- So for the sake of conversation...

- Syd.



   

                   

- Let's just pretend you and I...

- Please, can we just drop it?



   

                   

...don't know each other.

Just listen to me.



   

                   

Let's pretend for five minutes

you don't know me, I don't know you.



   

                   

Me and what's-his-name

are in the room.



   

                   

- Who do you pick?

- I do know you, Syd.



   

                   

Remove that from the equation.



   

                   

- You can't.

- Gun to your head. Who do you pick?



   

                   

I would pick you.

I would pick you in any equation.



   

                   

Are you all right in there?



   

                   

Everything is fine. Thank you.



   

                   

Syd, literally, this has got to be one

of the most insane conversations...



   

                   

...l've ever had with you.



   

                   

I don't want to fuck him. I don't.



   

                   

- Fuck him?

- It was one lunch.



   

                   

Who said anything

about fucking him?



   

                   

- I didn't say fucking, I said attracted.

- That's what you meant.



   

                   

- It's not.

- Please keep your voice down.



   

                   

I meant attracted, you said fuck.



   

                   

Can you just fucking

shut the fuck up?



   

                   

What do you want?



   

                   

I want you to answer

the fucking question.



   

                   

Syd, you're a cute guy. You are.

You really, really are, but I don't know.



   

                   

He has this angular, sexy,

Diesel-ad thing going on.



   

                   

But I don't even know him.



   

                   

- So maybe he's an asshole.

- You know what?



   

                   

Fuck you, Maya. If you were my friend,

you would've lied.



   

                   

Syd. Syd, you are at

her going-away party.



   

                   

If you don't calm down,

you'll drive me...



   

                   

...and you, and everyone else,

and her at this fucking party crazy.



   

                   

Just say goodbye and let her go,

because she's gone.



   

                   

She's gone, man.



   

                   

Line, anyone?



   

                   

No. No, thank you.

But do you have a cigarette?



   

                   

I'm sorry.



   

                   

Light. I'm sorry.



   

                   

All right, all right, you know what?

I'm gonna go.



   

                   

- Are you leaving?

- Thank you. Thank you for everything.



   

                   

- Really.

- Listen, do me a favor.



   

                   

Don't tell London I'm doing blow

in here. That'll really screw me.



   

                   

You know, Syd, yeah,

you know, I'll try to remember that.



   

                   

Maya, I'm serious. Please?



   

                   

Hey, please tell me you're not doing

coke in my parents' bathroom.



   

                   

- What?

- I saw you go upstairs.



   

                   

- Where did you go?

- To the bathroom.



   

                   

Swear to God, you're not doing coke

in my parents' house.



   

                   

Oh, my God, I swear to God...



   

                   

...l'm not doing coke

in your parents' house.



   

                   

Okay, I'm sorry, darling.



   

                   

All right.

Have a good time. I'm sorry.



   

                   

How long were you two together?



   

                   

Who? Me and London?

Two and a half years.



   

                   

- You split when?

- Six months and a few days ago.



   

                   

You're counting, Syd.

Not a good sign, mate.



   

                   

Why? Why do you say that?



   

                   

Joking.

I mean, what's the girl's name?



   

                   

- Maya. Can I have one of those?

- Maya.



   

                   

Maya.



   

                   

I'd do some terrible things to her.



   

                   

She's like an X-rated Barbie doll.



   

                   

- How old is she?

- I don't know, like      .



   

                   

Seventeen?



   

                   

- Now I really wanna fuck her.

- You'd fuck a   -year-old?



   

                   

What, you wouldn't?



   

                   

If it's not against the law,

what's the problem?



   

                   

You can fuck a   -year-old

in France.



   

                   

Does that make them

all pedophiles?



   

                   

Right situation, right country,

you'd fuck one too, believe you me.



   

                   

Right, right. International waters,

deserted island, shit can happen.



   

                   

But if any of my female friends

knew I fucked a   -year-old...



   

                   

...they'd lose it.

- What's the matter with you?



   

                   

If we told women a tenth of

the things we think and do...



   

                   

...do you think we'd ever get laid?



   

                   

- Like when I asked a girl to piss on me.

- To piss on you?



   

                   

Yes, mate, but I was on

a horrible amount of X at the time.



   

                   

Did she piss on you?



   

                   

Actually, no...



   

                   

...she pissed in my mouth.



   

                   

She pissed in your mouth?



   

                   

It was not a pleasant experience,

believe me.



   

                   

How the fuck does that happen?



   

                   

What is the conversation that leads to

a girl having to piss in your mouth?



   

                   

It was a fucking mistress.



   

                   

- You paid an S & M chick?

- Many times.



   

                   

"Many times."



   

                   

Listen, it's an expensive hobby,

both mentally and financially.



   

                   

So, what's the deal?

How does it work?



   

                   

I don't know if I want

to go there, you know?



   

                   

Come on, explain it. No one cares.

Did you get your shit wet? Me too.



   

                   

It's my fucking Savile Row suit.

It's fucking   G's.



   

                   

I've kept it out of the rain all day.

Look at the state of it.



   

                   

Look, I don't wanna go there.

All right, Syd?



   

                   

Come on. I'm not gonna tell.



   

                   

- Why the fuck do you wanna know?

- How does it work?



   

                   

- You just go over there?

- Look at you, you fucking dirtbag.



   

                   

- You brought it up.

- You wanna go there...



   

                   

...you fucking go there. Leave my

fucking demons to myself, mate.



   

                   

- Where is it?

- Tribeca, you cunt.



   

                   

Explain it. How does it work?

You just walk over?



   

                   

Look, you phone from downstairs...



   

                   

...and magically they let you in

through these enormous iron gates.



   

                   

You get all excited.



   

                   

You get all wrapped up.

You can't wait to get in there.



   

                   

The whole thought of it just

gets amongst your fucking veins.



   

                   

You're into it, you know?



   

                   

All of a sudden,

they give you a form.



   

                   

It's a five-page disclaimer

in fucking triplicate.



   

                   

And you're like, "Hold on.

What is this? Paperwork?



   

                   

I've come here

to get my dick sucked.



   

                   

I didn't come here to sign forms."

It's hilarious.



   

                   

You don't pay them,

you give them a fucking donation.



   

                   

I mean, that is so American, isn't it?

Come on.



   

                   

And then they give you a list and

a little pencil, like in the sushi bar.



   

                   

You start checking off the

requirements. Whipping, spanking...



   

                   

Come on, you fucking dirty

shit-cunt whore. Fucking whip me!



   

                   

- Nipple clamps, coprophilia.



   

                   

- What's coprophilia?

- When they shit on you.



   

                   

Shit in your mouth.



   

                   

You can have it in the mouth

or you can have it over a glass table.



   

                   

Can you imagine? They fucking

wheel out a glass table and they just...



   

                   

...shit all over it,

and you're just like:



   

                   

"You dirty bitch!"



   

                   

Who the fuck

asks for that fucking misery?



   

                   

I hope not you.



   

                   

Yeah, what about me?



   

                   

Anyway, you know, there's a lot...

I mean, the list is long, mate.



   

                   

- Infantilism, you've got...

- What's infantilism?



   

                   

They make you a baby,

give you a bottle.



   

                   

Put you in diapers, nurse you,

turn you into an infant.



   

                   

I mean, it's the sickest,

most twisted place you'll ever go.



   

                   

I mean, they claw your balls.



   

                   

They'll tie your cock up

with a shoelace...



   

                   

...stick truncheons up your ass.

It's twisted. It's fucking twisted.



   

                   

But I'm telling you,

the moment you come...



   

                   

The moment you come,

you are so sober.



   

                   

I mean, so fucking sober.



   

                   

You're like, "What have I just done?

What the fuck have I just done?



   

                   

I've just paid $   

for some stranger...



   

                   

...some chick I don't even know,

to, like, whip me...



   

                   

...and piss on my head."



   

                   

So where's the upside?

Why do you do it? I don't get it.



   

                   

Well, on a physical level,

it can be rather pleasurable.



   

                   

Psychologically... This is without

getting too deep here.



   

                   

- I think it has a lot to do

with pain and self-flagellation...



   

                   

...both literally and metaphorically.



   

                   

I mean, I don't know whether

it's the culture or what...



   

                   

...but the English, in general,

are very into pain and spanking.



   

                   

The English? Really?



   

                   

Yeah, you're always reading

some story in the papers...



   

                   

...about some judge or vicar

bent over a hooker's knee.



   

                   

I didn't know the English

were so fucked up.



   

                   

Mate, the English are very...



   

                   

...I mean, very fucked up.



   

                   

Yeah, one sec.



   

                   

Sweating like a fucking rapist.



   

                   

Syd.



   

                   

Come and have a look at the view.



   

                   

Yeah. It's Mallory,

the girl from the bar. I'll hook you up.



   

                   

- Come back in.

- Who?



   

                   

Mallory. The girl from the bar.



   

                   

- She's hot. I'll hook you up.

- No, no, mate, no.



   

                   

I'm too... I'm wanked, mate.

I can't be fucking with girls.



   

                   

So what? So am I.



   

                   

I've been drinking this piss.

No, I can't, fuck it.



   

                   

- I can't operate like this.

- Who cares?



   

                   

- I'm fucking dizzy.

- She'll be in and out.



   

                   

You help yourself to that,

I'm gonna leave.



   

                   

- It's been a fucking pleasure.

- Don't leave.



   

                   

Please don't fucking leave.

Go get a drink, come back.



   

                   

- No, mate, no.

- Bateman, one fucking drink.



   

                   

Come right back.

Work Mallory, she's hot.



   

                   

Fuck you. A drink of what?

What do you want?



   

                   

Anything. A bottle.

Jack, tequila, whiskey.



   

                   

You're staying, though, right?



   

                   

- One fucking drink.

- One fucking drink.



   

                   

Fine, fine, just don't go anywhere.

You'll fucking thank me.



   

                   

I haven't had a bump

in like three hours.



   

                   

Bateman, this is my friend Mallory.



   

                   

Mallory, this is Bateman.



   

                   

Hey.



   

                   

You're the guy from the bar, right?



   

                   

Mallory, yeah?



   

                   

Bateman.



   

                   

Nice to meet you.



   

                   

- Sorry.

- Excuse me.



   

                   

- What a clumsy idiot.

- Sorry.



   

                   

Well, how do you guys

know each other?



   

                   

A friend of a friend.



   

                   

What friend?



   

                   

I don't know, Mallory.

What's with the    Questions? Fuck.



   

                   

Just asking. So, what,

are you leaving or something?



   

                   

I'm just gonna grab us a drink

and then...



   

                   

...l'm coming back.

Do you want one?



   

                   

Sure, I'll have another one.



   

                   

- I'll see you in a minute.

- Good.



   

                   

I'll see you in a minute, Syd.



   

                   

Damn, kid.



   

                   

So how do you know that guy?



   

                   

He got this blow. He's not

a dealer, he just knew the guy.



   

                   

- Oh, yeah?

- Yeah. Good guy, right?



   

                   

- Yeah.

- Hey, you don't know if London's here.



   

                   

Yeah, she got here like a minute ago.



   

                   

What'd she say?

Does she know I'm here?



   

                   

No. She didn't say anything.



   

                   

I can't believe she's leaving tomorrow.

That's just so fucked up to me.



   

                   

Well, instead of staying here all night,

why don't you go out and talk to her.



   

                   

- I'm sure she'd love to talk to you.

- I doubt that.



   

                   

Why wouldn't she wanna talk to you?

You guys in a fight?



   

                   

A fight? Mallory, she hasn't

called me in two months.



   

                   

I wasn't invited tonight.

Don't you think it's odd...



   

                   

...she wouldn't tell me she's moving

across the fucking country?



   

                   

- She didn't call you?

- No.



   

                   

- That's fucked up.

- Didn't even leave a message.



   

                   

- I know that girl better than anybody.

- When's the last time you talked?



   

                   

- I don't know, two months.

- Really?



   

                   

- I'm sure she was gonna call you.

- When? I just checked my messages.



   

                   

- Is she gonna call me from LAX?

- Dude, I don't fucking know. Man.



   

                   

Fucked up!



   

                   

Hey, Syd, can I ask you

something personal?



   

                   

What?



   

                   

Well...



   

                   

It's probably... I don't know if it's true,

that's obviously why I'm asking...



   

                   

...and since we're cool and all,

I just figured... I'm kind of concerned.



   

                   

But l... Anyway, I kind of heard that...



   

                   

- What? Something about London?

- I heard... It's probably bullshit.



   

                   

- But I heard you...

- What, Mallory? Spit it out. Fuck.



   

                   

Dude, I kind of heard that

you tried to kill yourself.



   

                   

- What? Who told you that? London?

- No, it wasn't London.



   

                   

- Who told you that? Who?

- Dude, I don't know.



   

                   

I don't even remember.



   

                   

London's the only person

that knew about that.



   

                   

So any way you heard it,

it's pretty fucked up.



   

                   

- So, what? It's not true?

- No, it's not fucking true.



   

                   

Dude, I don't get it.

What the fuck happened then?



   

                   

You tell me what you heard happened,

then I'll tell you what really happened.



   

                   

Just after this bump. Hold up.



   

                   

All right. Okay.



   

                   

I heard that, like, you guys had a fight

or something, and you broke out...



   

                   

...she drove to your place,

found you unconscious...



   

                   

...next to some sleeping pills, and you

had to get your stomach pumped.



   

                   

Okay, now do you wanna know

what really happened?



   

                   

Yeah. I mean, that's why I asked.



   

                   

- You know my dog, Toker?

- Yeah.



   

                   

- Yes, well, he's epileptic.

- Okay.



   

                   

- So the vet prescribed phenobarbital.

- Pheno...? What the fuck is that?



   

                   

They're barbiturates.

They're downers, for his fits.



   

                   

Wait a minute. Your dog has epilepsy

and got prescribed...?



   

                   

Let me finish. Anyway...



   

                   

...it was our two-year anniversary

and she thought I'd forget.



   

                   

- So...

- Syd, you always forget. Always.



   

                   

Oh, fuck.



   

                   

- I feel like such a bitch.

- Well, you are a bitch.



   

                   

Open it.



   

                   

- Open it.

- Okay.



   

                   

Oh, my God.



   

                   

This is so gorgeous. How did

you know I wanted this dress?



   

                   

I saw you drooling all over it

last time we were at Valentino.



   

                   

I love it!



   

                   

Oh, it's so beautiful.



   

                   

Thank you so much, baby.



   

                   

There's more.



   

                   

- What is that?

- It's a basketball.



   

                   

What...? Oh, my God. Oh, my God.



   

                   

Hi, little guy. Hi, little guy.



   

                   

Oh, baby.



   

                   

- I love you so much.

- I love you.



   

                   

Look at him.

I can't believe you did this. L...



   

                   

Thank you. Okay. Okay.



   

                   

Hello?



   

                   

Hey. Can I just call you back?



   

                   

No, I'm just

in the middle of something.



   

                   

All right, bye.



   

                   

- Who was that?

- It was Mallory.



   

                   

Look at his paws.



   

                   

- What? What is it? What's wrong?

- I heard a guy's voice on the phone.



   

                   

What? Are you fucking crazy?

That was Mallory.



   

                   

You swear to God?



   

                   

Yes, I swear to God.



   

                   

If you don't fucking believe me,

go ahead and call her.



   

                   

Syd. Are you really gonna

fucking call her?



   

                   

Yeah, is Mallory there?



   

                   

This is London's boyfriend.

Who the fuck is this?



   

                   

London, what the fuck is this?

Who was that? Why did you lie?



   

                   

- Let me just explain.

- You better fucking explain.



   

                   

What? Why did you lie?

Are you cheating on me?



   

                   

No, no. Listen.



   

                   

I was really fucked up.

I was out with the girls.



   

                   

- Fucking perfect.

- Are you gonna let me explain?



   

                   

Yes, yes, you better

fucking explain, London.



   

                   

Okay, the clubs were closing, we went

back to Becca's boyfriend's loft.



   

                   

I fucking passed out.

I wake up the next morning...



   

                   

...and the guy... There was someone

lying in bed next to me.



   

                   

Then he didn't try anything?



   

                   

You're fucked up in his bed,

he didn't try anything.



   

                   

I find that hard to believe.

And don't fucking lie to me.



   

                   

If you fucking lie to me,

I'm walking out the fucking door.



   

                   

He tried to kiss me. But there was

nothing because I pushed him away.



   

                   

- It was not a big deal...

- Define "tried."



   

                   

I wanna know

every single fucking detail.



   

                   

Were you on or under the covers?

Was his hand on your tit?



   

                   

No, Syd. He tries to kiss me

and I pushed him away.



   

                   

- You pushed him away?

- Yes. I walked outside.



   

                   

Mallory called me a cab,

and I went home.



   

                   

If you went home,

why is he calling you?



   

                   

- How does he have your number?

- I don't know.



   

                   

Maybe Becca's boyfriend

gave him the number.



   

                   

But I definitely didn't give it to him.



   

                   

Nothing happened. I swear to God.

Don't you fucking believe me? Please.



   

                   

I don't know what to believe.



   

                   

You swore that was

Mallory on the phone...



   

                   

...and it wasn't.

So, what the fuck?



   

                   

We've dated for two years. I believed

everything you said until now.



   

                   

Now I don't know

what the fuck to believe.



   

                   

It's like your words are meaningless.



   

                   

I just don't trust you anymore,

London.



   

                   

I made a mistake.

I made a fucking huge mistake.



   

                   

- I'm sorry.

- Lf it was one fucking mistake...



   

                   

...why did you say

you were gonna call back?



   

                   

Why would you tell a guy

who you don't know...



   

                   

...whose number you don't have,

you're gonna call him back?



   

                   

What the fuck is that?



   

                   

So I took a couple

of Toker's phenobarbital.



   

                   

Wait, you took

your dog's medication?



   

                   

Phenobarbital is phenobarbital.

It doesn't matter if it was for my dog.



   

                   

People have been taking it

recreationally for years.



   

                   

Smoke that.



   

                   

So wait a minute,

what does it do to you?



   

                   

They make you feel good.

They're like downers.



   

                   

- Okay.

- Anyway...



   

                   

...I was pretty drunk

and I took like five or six of them.



   

                   

- Five or six doggy downers?

- Toker's    pounds, he takes two.



   

                   

- I'm     five or six seems pretty good.

- Shit.



   

                   

The problem is that if you're drunk,

you can fall into a coma...



   

                   

...if you're not careful.

- You went into a coma?



   

                   

- What's wrong with you?

- No, I didn't go into a fucking coma.



   

                   

London came back

to apologize or whatever.



   

                   

Syd? Syd!



   

                   

Syd! Somebody, please, help!



   

                   

It's so fucked up. The fact she's telling

people that makes me so furious.



   

                   

I would never do that to anyone.

It's just fucking rude.



   

                   

- They never pumped your stomach?

- No, I went to the hospital.



   

                   

I took a few coherency tests.

That's it. That's all.



   

                   

Do you see how reality gets twisted

when little fucking girls gossip?



   

                   

Yeah. Yeah, I mean, I guess.



   

                   

- What? Do you not believe me?

- No, of course I believe you, Syd.



   

                   

That's why I asked. I was concerned.



   

                   

Makes me so livid

that she's out there...



   

                   

...telling people this warped version

of what happened.



   

                   

You know what? Just please don't

go out there telling her I told you this.



   

                   

That's the last thing you need.



   

                   

The last thing I'm gonna do

is mention your name.



   

                   

Well, honestly, if I were you, I wouldn't

even bring the shit up, okay?



   

                   

It's her last night here.

Focus on something positive.



   

                   

She don't wanna hear that shit.



   

                   

Fuck.



   

                   

What? What's wrong?



   

                   

I don't know, I don't know.



   

                   

Because I start sweating

and my heart starts pounding...



   

                   

...and I feel like my head's spinning

and the world's crashing.



   

                   

And I get pulled down,

further into, like, the darkest...



   

                   

...meanest places of my brain,

and I start suffocating.



   

                   

And you feel like you're dying.



   

                   

What? What? Say something.



   

                   

- What would you like me to say?

- Anything. Something. I don't care.



   

                   

I can't be your crutch, Syd.



   

                   

Oh, you are such a miserable

fucking human being.



   

                   

Miserable in what way?



   

                   

The way that you're sitting there,

taking my fucking money...



   

                   

...and I'm dying. Nothing you do

helps me. The Prozac doesn't help.



   

                   

The lithium doesn't help. The Zoloft

doesn't help. Nothing you do helps.



   

                   

You're kind of a fucking asshole.



   

                   

I just wanna fucking

turn the pain off, you know?



   

                   

Just give me something that

the pain can go away with, you know?



   

                   

Can you do that? Don?



   

                   

I think you're doing great.



   

                   

When that anxiety hits,

it's terrifying...



   

                   

...because you're like,

"Maybe I'm really going crazy.



   

                   

Maybe I've finally

fucked with my head enough...



   

                   

...that I just detached from reality."



   

                   

- You have these horrible revelations.

- Like what?



   

                   

I started freaking out about death.

I became obsessed.



   

                   

I couldn't conceptualize not

being here. Just not being here.



   

                   

One day, Mallory, you and I

are gonna be dead. Buried. Gone.



   

                   

You think about religion. People are

just swallowing these concepts.



   

                   

Like God and heaven,

just to suppress our deepest fears...



   

                   

...that we don't know why we're here.

It makes no sense.



   

                   

It totally makes sense, okay?



   

                   

At the same time it allows people

to go on living their everyday lives...



   

                   

...without constantly obsessing over

these things. These realities.



   

                   

Life, death, heaven, hell.

Existence, why we're here.



   

                   

You know, who knows,

it's possible that a god does exist.



   

                   

Energy, force, spirit, whatever

you wanna call it. I believe that.



   

                   

Fair enough.

So, what happens when you die?



   

                   

I don't know. You fucking die. Why

does there have to be an answer?



   

                   

Why can't there just be mysteries?

I don't know. Your body dies.



   

                   

Your actual physical being dies,

but your spirit, I do believe, lives on.



   

                   

It lives on in the world. Man, it's this

continuing thing of existence.



   

                   

It doesn't have to have

a perfect answer why.



   

                   

I buy that a little bit more

than an invisible guy...



   

                   

...taking checks and balances

on   million people.



   

                   

That sounds like Santa Claus to me.



   

                   

It's like a fairy tale for adults

who can't handle death.



   

                   

Yeah, because if you think about it...



   

                   

...there was a time that we didn't know

that the world was round...



   

                   

...or that the atom existed

or whatever, right...



   

                   

...because we didn't have

the technology to observe it.



   

                   

And then... one day we do, right?



   

                   

So, I mean, it's totally

conceivably possible...



   

                   

...that in our lifetime, we will have

the technology to observe God...



   

                   

...or whatever it is that created us

and the planets...



   

                   

...and the universe

and everything else. Right?



   

                   

It's important to at least have faith

in the possibility...



   

                   

...of a higher being

or something, or whatever...



   

                   

...because otherwise, you're just...



   

                   

You're gonna drive yourself

completely fucking insane.



   

                   

Right, but that really is

the operative word isn't it?



   

                   

What do you mean? What word?



   

                   

"Faith." Because without faith,

what do you have? You have nothing.



   

                   

You got a few stories written    

years ago, thousands of years ago...



   

                   

...by people who are more

clueless than we are.



   

                   

The same people who were crucifying

people who said the world was round.



   

                   

So, you know. I just need more proof.

I need logic to support this religion.



   

                   

Okay, if you want proof,

I will give you proof.



   

                   

There was a study that was done

in Japan with physicists, okay?



   

                   

They took two vats of rice...



   

                   

...they put one in one room,

and one in another room.



   

                   

They put a time-lapse camera on it

so they could observe it for a month.



   

                   

They let all these people

come into one room...



   

                   

...and they would say, "I love you,

rice. You are the best rice.



   

                   

You are the most beautiful,

most gorgeous, sexy rice there is."



   

                   

And in the other room,

they say, "I fucking hate you, rice.



   

                   

I hate you. You're the worst rice.

Fuck you, rice, you're the worst rice."



   

                   

After a month, the rice that they

said "I love you" to? Still edible.



   

                   

The other rice looks like

fucking black sludge.



   

                   

I saw the pictures. I saw, you know,

the time-lapse video.



   

                   

It's a study. It's real.

I saw it with my own eyes.



   

                   

That's your proof right there. I mean,

it's energy. We're affecting something.



   

                   

- God is energy.

- London, you're talking about rice.



   

                   

Rice. It has nothing to do with religion.

Nothing to do with God.



   

                   

- I gave you proof.

- I'm sorry, I don't find proof in that.



   

                   

You know what your problem is?

You're so undyingly convinced...



   

                   

...that everything your parents

and teachers taught you...



   

                   

...you hold it as

this indisputable, almighty truth.



   

                   

Syd, can we please just drop it?

Can we just fucking drop it?



   

                   

You wanna drop it because

you know I'm right. Admit that...



   

                   

...we'll talk about whatever you want.

- Shut up.



   

                   

- Shut the fuck up.

- Just admit it.



   

                   

You're scared to question authority

because what if they're wrong?



   

                   

What if all your parents

and all your elders...



   

                   

...were as scared of death as you,

and brainwashed just like you?



   

                   

You're just blind to see it.



   

                   

Okay, so I'm brainwashed...



   

                   

...because I happen to think

that believing in something...



   

                   

...other than meaninglessness

and nonexistence is a positive thing?



   

                   

- Okay. That's really smart, Syd.

- I'm glad you agree with me.



   

                   

I was being facetious, you dipshit.



   

                   

Why are you calling me a dipshit?



   

                   

Why are you calling me a dipshit?



   

                   

Because...



   

                   

...you always have to be right.

Why do you always have to be right?



   

                   

And your ego.

Your ego, it's just huge.



   

                   

- It's just out of fucking control.

- There's no need to freak out.



   

                   

Syd, because you don't know

when to stop.



   

                   

You keep going

and going and going...



   

                   

...until people just wanna

smash your face in.



   

                   

Okay, okay.

Maybe God doesn't exist.



   

                   

I guess me and the billions upon

billions and billions of other people...



   

                   

...who actually pray to something

are completely deluded...



   

                   

...and you are right.

You are all-knowing.



   

                   

You're God, Syd. Isn't that what

you wanna fucking hear anyway?



   

                   

- That everyone else is wrong and...?

- Doesn't everybody?



   

                   

And I'm deluded?

And I am fucking deluded?



   

                   

You are... You're sick.

You're sick, Syd.



   

                   

You need fucking mental help.



   

                   

God, you make everybody crazy.

You're making me fucking crazy.



   

                   

You just... You blanket people with

your pseudo-intellectual bullshit...



   

                   

...and then they can't fucking breathe.

You just suffocate people.



   

                   

You don't talk to people.

You talk at them.



   

                   

At least I talk about real shit.

We've been going out for two years.



   

                   

What's the most intelligent

conversation we've had?



   

                   

How many grams of fat

are in a slice of vegetarian pizza?



   

                   

- Fuck you! You're so annoying.

- No, fuck you, London!



   

                   

You are more annoying than me.



   

                   

You get away with it

because no one listens.



   

                   

They stare at your tits,

thinking of ways to fuck you.



   

                   

I can't fucking believe that I ever fell

in love with a fucking asshole like you!



   

                   

- You're such a fucking asshole!

- Stop!



   

                   

- I fucking hate you!

- London. Take it easy.



   

                   

Stop, stop, stop.



   

                   

Stop. Stop.



   

                   

Stop.



   

                   

Baby. Come on, now.



   

                   

I'm not gonna get her back, am I?



   

                   

I don't know.



   

                   

Why don't you go talk to her.



   

                   

Are you leaving?



   

                   

I'm getting really claustrophobic.

I need to get some air.



   

                   

- I'm not freaking you out, am I?

- No, I'm so high right now.



   

                   

I need a drink.



   

                   

- Here, let me give you some of this.

- Can you bring that purse over?



   

                   

- Yeah, of course.

- Thanks.



   

                   

Here.



   

                   

- Oh, thanks, man.

- Here, this is for you.



   

                   

- That's way too much.

- No, please, take it.



   

                   

- You sure?

- Yeah.



   

                   

Thanks, man. That's really sweet.



   

                   

So you...? Do you wanna

come out there or what?



   

                   

Yeah, I'll be out there in a minute.

I'm gonna...



   

                   

...just hang here for a minute or two.

- All right.



   

                   

See you out there, okay?



   

                   

You gotta come out.



   

                   

Hello, girls. What's your name?



   

                   

We're at a party, come on.

What are you reading a book for?



   

                   

Fancy a smoke in the little room?



   

                   

We're reading, actually,

about robopathology.



   

                   

Complicated little thing, aren't you?



   

                   

I was gonna leave,

then I had to make a beeline to you.



   

                   

Like I feel I know you

or something like that.



   

                   

On a one-to-ten scale...



   

                   

...you're a four. In dim light.



   

                   

One lantern so I wouldn't have to

see your heinous, disfigured face.



   

                   

You are absolutely...

You're beautiful.



   

                   

I have to go.

That's my chopper. But before I do...



   

                   

- It's picking you up?

- Yeah.



   

                   

I invented this move:



   

                   

She likes me. She's laughing.



   

                   

- How old are you?

- Eighteen.



   

                   

Eighteen.



   

                   

Let me just get another drink now.



   

                   

Stop. I'm not hitting on you.



   

                   

- I like your shoes.

- You do?



   

                   

- Excuse me. Hey, girl, I'm out of here.

- Already?



   

                   

- I'm gonna miss you.

- I'm gonna miss you too.



   

                   

- Thank you so much for coming.

- You're welcome.



   

                   

- Don't get shallow on me.

- I promise. Are you kidding me?



   

                   

- I'm sorry. I'll see you later.

- Nice to meet you.



   

                   

Call us when you get home.

Let us know you're okay.



   

                   

All right, all right, all right, come on.



   

                   

Come on, Syd.



   

                   

You gotta mellow out.

You gotta mellow out.



   

                   

You need a beer.

You need a bottle.



   

                   

Okay.



   

                   

Stop doing blow.

You gotta stop doing coke.



   

                   

Don't grind your teeth. If she sees

you grind your teeth, you're fucked.



   

                   

Come on, Syd.

Mellow out, mellow out.



   

                   

Be a man. Be a man.



   

                   

There. Get a drink.

Go out there, get a drink.



   

                   

What's the worst that can happen?

What's the worst that can happen?



   

                   

I can see London. So what?



   

                   

Fuck. Fuck.



   

                   

Okay. You fuck up tonight, it's over.



   

                   

Okay.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

You know I do.



   

                   

Well, if you do, if you love me,

why don't you just say it?



   

                   

Why can't you just fucking say it?

Why is it so impossible for you?



   

                   

It's... It's three words.



   

                   

It's... L-O-V-E Y...

It's eight fucking letters.



   

                   

You can't say eight fucking letters?



   

                   

It's not a lot of letters.



   

                   

Say it.



   

                   

Tell me you were not doing

cocaine in my parents' bathroom.



   

                   

- What are you talking about?

- Don't "what are you talking about" me.



   

                   

- I saw you go upstairs.

- Yeah, I went to the fucking bathroom.



   

                   

- Really?

- Yeah, I had to pee.



   

                   

Well, swear to God

you're not doing cocaine.



   

                   

Who the fuck is Bateman?



   

                   

That's his friend or some shit.

I don't know.



   

                   

He's hot.



   

                   

I think I want to have

hot coke sex with him.



   

                   

You fucking did cocaine!

Don't fuck with me. Are you?



   

                   

Yeah, man, he's hot.

I like guys with accents.



   

                   

Oh, my God.



   

                   

I gotta go.



   

                   

- So I met your girl, mate.

- What do you mean, you met her?



   

                   

Mallory, she introduced us.



   

                   

I didn't say I knew you.

I didn't wanna blow your cover.



   

                   

But, my God,

she is painfully gorgeous.



   

                   

Yeah, no shit.



   

                   

I'd go out there

and speak to her immediately.



   

                   

I can't go out there like this.

I'm not thinking right.



   

                   

If she knows I'm on blow,

she won't even talk to me.



   

                   

Fuck! How do I look?

Do I look like I'm on blow?



   

                   

- No, you're fine.

- No, look at me. Look at my eyes.



   

                   

A bit, yeah.



   

                   

Come on. Drink some more booze.

You'll be fine.



   

                   

What was I thinking,

getting these tonight? So stupid, Syd.



   

                   

I just wanted to clear my head out.

Try and think a little bit clearer.



   

                   

Now I'm so fucking spun

I can't even think straight.



   

                   

- Fuck.

- Happens, mate.



   

                   

I've never been particularly social

on this shit, anyway.



   

                   

It's a lonely, lonely drug.



   

                   

This is fucking crazy.



   

                   

I should bail. I can't do this.



   

                   

- Should I bail?

- You could.



   

                   

- I think you'd regret it.

- Why? Why do you say that?



   

                   

Personally, I'd rather

regret something I'd done...



   

                   

...than something

I was too afraid to do.



   

                   

No shit.



   

                   

But I haven't talked to this girl

in two fucking months.



   

                   

Everybody here hates me.

These are all her friends.



   

                   

If I go out there, it is gonna get

fucking ugly. Fucking ugly.



   

                   

You'd think they'd have something to

take the edge off a chick leaving you.



   

                   

That'd be nice.

Look, they have this theory.



   

                   

Maybe it'll help. I don't know.



   

                   

Fuck knows where it comes from.

The broad strokes of it are...



   

                   

...that it takes a third of the time...



   

                   

...to recover from a relationship

as the relationship was long.



   

                   

So, for example,

if the relationship lasted a year...



   

                   

...you'll be good in four months.



   

                   

- Two years, you'll be clean in eight.

- It's not a third, it's a half.



   

                   

- Mate, it's a third. Trust me.

- No, mate, it's a half.



   

                   

Maybe in England it's a third.

In America it's a half.



   

                   

I dated her for two years. It's been

six months and it's getting worse.



   

                   

Six months? Come on.

What are you complaining about?



   

                   

You've got two months to go.



   

                   

Good behavior, maybe a month.



   

                   

Bro, I appreciate the pep talk...



   

                   

...but if you haven't noticed,

I'm trying to get this girl back.



   

                   

Look, I don't know if first love

applies to that theory, anyway.



   

                   

It's been years, I still have these

horribly lucid dreams about Helen.



   

                   

It's almost like your brain is trying

to compensate for the absence.



   

                   

You know, you think you're

still married, you're still in love...



   

                   

...life's just beautiful.



   

                   

All of a sudden, you wake up, look

over and she's been gone for years.



   

                   

- Fucking horrendous.

- Yeah, no shit.



   

                   

So you were married before?



   

                   

How long ago?



   

                   

Divorced three years ago.



   

                   

- Who divorced who?

- It's not that simple.



   

                   

Well, what happened?

Why did you guys split?



   

                   

- Long story, mate.

- Give me the abridged version.



   

                   

"The abridged version."

Look, I don't know.



   

                   

The relationship just didn't work

on so many levels.



   

                   

We both had one foot out the door

for two years...



   

                   

...of our two-and-a-half-year

marriage.



   

                   

You know, but it's weird. You know,

when they tell you they're leaving...



   

                   

...it's like you don't even

feel the hollowness.



   

                   

It's an emptiness

within an emptiness...



   

                   

...and you're left with

slightly less than nothing.



   

                   

The person you were when you met

doesn't exist anymore. You're gone.



   

                   

- So she left you?

- Syd, it's very fucking complicated.



   

                   

What happened?

Did you cheat on her?



   

                   

- No, no. It's irrelevant.

- Irrelevant? How is it irrelevant?



   

                   

Besides money, infidelity's the most

relevant reason why people split up.



   

                   

Yeah, yeah. True, true.



   

                   

Come on, man.

I thought we were talking.



   

                   

Let's talk, let's talk.

Why did your wife leave you?



   

                   

Syd, it's not a pleasant scene

for me, please.



   

                   

Oh, my scene's pleasant?



   

                   

Mate, I've been    before.

I know your pain.



   

                   

But where you're pushing me now

is not a place you wanna go.



   

                   

Wait. Are you trying to say

that since you're older than me...



   

                   

...your pain is somehow more?

- That's the case.



   

                   

Listen, first of all...



   

                   

...you don't have the slightest clue

what pain I've been through.



   

                   

Just since you're

a couple decades older...



   

                   

...doesn't mean that your pain is more

than mine. It doesn't.



   

                   

Secondly, don't make

blind comparisons...



   

                   

...when you have no fucking clue

what you're comparing.



   

                   

You think having your heart broken

is pain? You think losing God is pain?



   

                   

Mate, I went through that trivial shit

when I was   .



   

                   

I'm    now, mate.



   

                   

Where you're trying to push me now

is not a place you wanna go.



   

                   

So why don't you do yourself a favor,

and don't fucking go there with me.



   

                   

You're a fucking child.

You're just a kid.



   

                   

A kid?



   

                   

Listen, you pompous, limey fuck...



   

                   

...if you had one tenth my pain,

you'd be psychologically crippled.



   

                   

Mate, seriously, fuck off.

All we're doing is projecting shit here.



   

                   

Look, take a step back.

Let's relax, shall we?



   

                   

- Do a bit of gear. Come on.

- Fuck the gear. I don't want that shit.



   

                   

- More for me.

- It's Bateman, right?



   

                   

- Nice to see your memory is still intact.

- Well, Bateman...



   

                   

...let me give you a glimpse into

my life, insight into my fucking pain.



   

                   

- Mate, it's not necessary. Truly.

- No, it is necessary.



   

                   

And if you didn't think it was,

you wouldn't have pushed my buttons.



   

                   

But you did.

And if you don't wanna hear it...



   

                   

...stop snorting my shit

and get the fuck out of the bathroom.



   

                   

Technically, it's my shit,

but I can see you're passionate, so go.



   

                   

So this fucker...



   

                   

...this fucking guy out in L.A.,

who my chick is now in love with...



   

                   

...he's, you know, endowed.



   

                   

- She told you that?

- Yeah. So I needed to know how big.



   

                   

Not that I give a fuck

about another guy's dick.



   

                   

It's one of those things

you feel like you need to know.



   

                   

So we're in an argument,

and I was pushing her.



   

                   

I was like, "How big is he?"



   

                   

She was like, "Let's not make an issue

out of it." And I said, "No, fuck that."



   

                   

And she says,

"Ten and a half inches."



    

                   

- Jesus.

- Yeah, you believe that shit?



    

                   

She could have at least

rounded it down.



    

                   

- The girl's trying to hurt you, mate.

- Yeah, no shit.



    

                   

But it really fucked with me, you know.

Knowing that this guy is in L. A...



    

                   

...with the only woman I love,

fucking her with    and a half inches.



    

                   

I'm chasing her around like a puppy,

doing anything I can to get her back.



    

                   

And it crushed me!

It still fucking crushes me!



    

                   

Sorry, mate.



    

                   

- How exactly do you deal with that?

- You don't deal with it.



    

                   

It deals with you.



    

                   

God, it eats at you

and it eats at you, you know?



    

                   

We'd get in these fights,

and I'd say the most horrible things.



    

                   

I'd be like, "You just want a fat cock

in your fat snatch, you fucking whore."



    

                   

You know, I'd...

Just mean, horrible things.



    

                   

I'd be so fucking angry, you know?



    

                   

I used to say the same shit, mate. I

used to say the most horrendous shit.



    

                   

Why? What'd she do?



    

                   

She didn't really do anything.



    

                   

You know, I imagine that

a lot of it had to do with me.



    

                   

A lot of it had to with my hang-ups

and depression and shit.



    

                   

But, my God, I used to say the worst

shit to her. I tormented that girl.



    

                   

I lived with her for three and a half

fucking years and I hated her.



    

                   

So, what was the final snap?



    

                   

Did you cheat on her?

Did she cheat on you?



    

                   

No, no. God, no.



    

                   

- How do you know?

- Because I didn't, you know? I didn't.



    

                   

- How do you know she didn't?

- I know she didn't. It wasn't her thing.



    

                   

How do you know?



    

                   

I was with the most beautiful girl

in the universe.



    

                   

She didn't fuck me

for two fucking years!



    

                   

- Why?

- I don't know.



    

                   

Because we fought. I was in therapy.



    

                   

I don't... I don't... Look, I don't know.



    

                   

If you wanna know it is, I'll tell you.



    

                   

You remember sentences

that people say to you.



    

                   

They stick in your mind like gunshot

wounds that never fucking heal.



    

                   

I remember what my ex-wife

said to me when we started dating.



    

                   

She said, "I love it when a guy

fucks me four, five times a night."



    

                   

- Four, five times a night?

- Yeah. Truly.



    

                   

I was like, "You was with some guy...



    

                   

...who fucked you

four, five times a night?"



    

                   

- You wanna know what pain is?

- What?



    

                   

- I'll tell you what pain is, you fuck.

- Why you calling me a fuck?



    

                   

- I'll tell you what pain is, you fuck.

- Why you calling me a fuck?



    

                   

Because, my friend,

you brought me here...



    

                   

...and I didn't particularly

wanna go here, but now I am.



    

                   

If you don't wanna go

where I'm about to go...



    

                   

...then tell me right now

and I'll walk out the door...



    

                   

...l'll phone my therapist

and that will be it, okay?



    

                   

No, fuck that, I wanna hear this.

You're not going anywhere.



    

                   

- You wanna know what it is?

- Yes, I wanna know what it is.



    

                   

Motherfucker, you wanna know

what it is? Pain, my friend...



    

                   

...is when the woman you love

wants to fuck you...



    

                   

...four, five times a night,

and you can't!



    

                   

- Why?

- Why? Why?



    

                   

I'll tell you why.

Because I'm an impotent man!



    

                   

Motherfucker, that's pain!



    

                   

That's fucking pain!



    

                   

When your wife wants

to fuck you four times a night...



    

                   

...and you fucking can't!



    

                   

You know that some fucker

before you could.



    

                   

And you know that some fucker

after you will!



    

                   

Well, I couldn't

cope with that, could I?



    

                   

That sense of ruination...



    

                   

...that insolvency

that burns in your soul.



    

                   

I couldn't fuck my wife!



    

                   

Do know what

that fucking means, mate?



    

                   

Do you understand

what impotent rage really is?!



    

                   

- I'm sorry.

- You have no fucking idea, mate!



    

                   

- I'm sorry.

- Oh, you're sorry?



    

                   

Oh, you're sorry, are you?



    

                   

You dare, you fucking dare

ask me if there's a God?



    

                   

Well, man, I feel forsaken.

I feel cheated, you cunt!



    

                   

I've lost in the big game,

and nothing else fucking matters.



    

                   

It doesn't matter what you do.

If you can't hack it in the sack, mate...



    

                   

...if you can't hack it

in the game of love and sex...



    

                   

...you are shit, my friend.



    

                   

Because you can't do what the other

man can do to your fucking wife, mate!



    

                   

I know what you mean.



    

                   

No, motherfucker,

you do not know what I mean!



    

                   

You couldn't possibly know

what the fuck I mean!



    

                   

I failed.



    

                   

I fucking failed, mate.



    

                   

And I'm still failing

every fucking day of my life!



    

                   

Every day.



    

                   

Every fucking day.



    

                   

You know...



    

                   

Thought you were gonna

clock me for a minute.



    

                   

I wasn't gonna hit you.

I'm projecting.



    

                   

You should see my group therapy

sessions. They're fucking psychotic.



    

                   

Yeah, I'll bet.



    

                   

Mate, do yourself a favor,

please, for me.



    

                   

Go and talk to your chick.



    

                   

I can't. To be honest, I'm thinking

about making for the elevator.



    

                   

I can't go out like this.

She doesn't even want me here.



    

                   

Look, I hate to break it to you, mate...



    

                   

...but by now

she knows you're here...



    

                   

...and, unfortunately,

time is not on your side.



    

                   

What are you gonna do,

wait outside like a fucking stalker?



    

                   

Wouldn't be the first time.



    

                   

- Go, man, go. Come on.

- No, I can't, I can't, I can't.



    

                   

Listen to me. God.



    

                   

Listen to me, you might not have

a   -and-a-half-inch cock...



    

                   

...but at least you can still fuck her.



    

                   

So quit worrying about

all the bullshit.



    

                   

The fact is, she's here, you're here.



    

                   

Life's too short

to be a pussy, mate. Truly.



    

                   

Come on.



    

                   

I think I would love to do that. I don't

really know a lot of people there.



    

                   

Not a whole lot going on in L.A.,

but we'll find something.



    

                   

Hey, London.

Could I talk to you for a second?



    

                   

Yeah. What is it?

What do you want?



    

                   

I wanna know if we can go somewhere

and talk for a second, please.



    

                   

You don't wanna talk here?

We can't just talk right here?



    

                   

Please.



    

                   

Syd,

A, this is my going-away party...



    

                   

...and I think it would be pretty uncool

to the people who threw it for me...



    

                   

...if I left just because

you wanted to talk.



    

                   

And, B, I don't know

if you noticed...



    

                   

...but we were kind of

in the middle of a conversation...



    

                   

...so I don't know what to tell you.



    

                   

Listen, I'm gonna grab another drink.

Can l...? Can I get you something?



    

                   

Actually, yeah.



    

                   

I'd love something.

Something strong.



    

                   

- Fuck me up.

- All right.



    

                   

What about you, bruiser?

What are you drinking?



    

                   

Is that a bottle of cockblocker?



    

                   

So...



    

                   

I heard you've been snorting drugs

all night. Really productive.



    

                   

I heard you told people

I tried to kill myself.



    

                   

That's really fucking great of you.

I really appreciate it.



    

                   

Who the fuck told you that?

I would never say that.



    

                   

- You know that.

- The fact is, I have known you...



    

                   

...since you were   .

We have been through everything.



    

                   

And you don't have

the decency to call...



    

                   

- Please keep your voice down?

- What the fuck is that?!



    

                   

- You wanna talk? Fine, let's go.

- Get the fuck off me.



    

                   

I'm sorry, excuse me.



    

                   

- I'm sorry, excuse me. I'm sorry.

- What?



    

                   

- London, are you okay?

- Yeah.



    

                   

We're just gonna...

We're gonna go and talk.



    

                   

Yeah? Because if you want, I'll call

security and have him taken out.



    

                   

Becca, could you do me a favor?

Stay out of this?



    

                   

You've been doing coke in the

bathroom all night so don't tell me...



    

                   

...what I can and can't do

in my own fucking house...



    

                   

...considering you

weren't even invited.



    

                   

It's cool, Bec. We're gonna go.

It's gonna be fine.



    

                   

It's not cool, London.

Baby, he wasn't invited.



    

                   

You didn't want him here,

I didn't want him.



    

                   

- No one wants him here.

- Becca, can you relax? Please?



    

                   

- Don't tell me to relax.

- Why can't you relax for two seconds?



    

                   

- We're leaving.

- You're shouting at my fucking party.



    

                   

Also you're psychotic.

You couldn't take a hint...



    

                   

...if it smashed you in the face.

She doesn't want to be with you.



    

                   

- Not even    seconds.

- We're leaving. Let's go.



    

                   

- Bec, we're leaving. I'm sorry.

- You know what?



    

                   

I'm sorry, London, and I'm not

trying to be a bitch here...



    

                   

...but when you come back,

you come back alone.



    

                   

I don't want you

in my house again, all right?



    

                   

Or I will call the cops.



    

                   

Becca, I'm really trying

to be calm here, all right?



    

                   

Fuck off. I'm so tired of you

and your psycho fucking shit.



    

                   

You wanna talk about psycho?



    

                   

- Let's talk about your fucked-up life.

- Stop it.



    

                   

- Fuck you!

- Fuck this! You wanna fuck with me?



    

                   

You wanna fuck with me?

Let's do it right fucking now.



    

                   

Why don't you fuck off, alrighty?



    

                   

You weren't even invited to this.



    

                   

- You wanna fuck with me?

- Stop it. We're leaving right now!



    

                   

How many friends did you fuck

freshman year? Fifteen,   ?



    

                   

I think I lost count. Was it

the whole fucking pledge class?



    

                   

Jay, you never really know

your girlfriend.



    

                   

Isn't that a total mind-fuck?



    

                   

You're a fucking bastard!



    

                   

You fucking wanker! Get the fuck

out of my fucking house!



    

                   

Hey!



    

                   

- Fuck you.

- Come on, then!



    

                   

Fucking prick.

You want some, you fucking slag?



    

                   

Hey, Syd!



    

                   

Here, you cunt.

Have some of that, you fuck.



    

                   

Fuck off. Come on, then.



    

                   

Hey, Syd!



    

                   

Get off, you fucking asshole.



    

                   

You fucker. Get the fuck off him.



    

                   

Come on.



    

                   

Wait a minute, I gotta get Bateman.



    

                   

What? Who the fuck is Bateman?



    

                   

Come on, you cunts!

You want some, do you? Do you?



    

                   

Let's go, Bateman. Come on.



    

                   

- My coat. My Burberry coat.

- Fuck it, leave the jacket.



    

                   

- I've had it    fucking years.

- I'll get it.



    

                   

- Are you fucking crazy?

- We'll be downstairs.



    

                   

Guy's fucking nuts.



    

                   

- You're bleeding.

- I am so sorry.



    

                   

- Where?

- This is fucking insane.



    

                   

- You are insane.

- I am so sorry.



    

                   

If you wanna go back, I understand.



    

                   

- You don't wanna talk?

- Yeah, I wanna talk. I mean...



    

                   

Well, where?

Where do you wanna go?



    

                   

My car's two blocks away

if you want coffee.



    

                   

- Yeah, okay.

- All right. Okay.



    

                   

Look, you're probably not

gonna believe this at all...



    

                   

...but I was kind of glad

when I heard you were at the party.



    

                   

Ever since you and I broke up,

I've wanted...



    

                   

...to have a normal conversation,

just a normal conversation with you.



    

                   

And I just feel like every time

I see you, it just gets so, like...



    

                   

Like, weird and chaotic and scrambled,

and I can't organize my thoughts...



    

                   

...and I can't even express the most

basic things I want to say to you.



    

                   

I know. Me too.



    

                   

Whatever we had when we were

together, when we were in love...



    

                   

...that feeling of just being able to lie in

bed with someone for days and days...



    

                   

...and not give a fuck

about the outside world...



    

                   

...is gone.



    

                   

And I feel like there's nothing

I can do to ever get it back.



    

                   

Do you know how painful that is?



    

                   

Yeah. Yeah, I do.



    

                   

I cried for weeks when we broke up.



    

                   

You cried for weeks?



    

                   

Yes.



    

                   

The hardest thing

I've ever dealt with in my life.



    

                   

How long did you go through that?



    

                   

A long time. A long time.



    

                   

I mean, the first month,

it was so fucking bad. And then...



    

                   

...you know, slowly, it gets better.



    

                   

That's the difference

between you and me, London.



    

                   

I'm still going through it.



    

                   

I tried to call you

a dozen times today.



    

                   

I'm terrified. I'm... I'm afraid.



    

                   

Of what? What are you afraid of?



    

                   

I'm afraid of falling in love

with you again.



    

                   

- Sorry, Syd.

- Yeah, yeah, yeah.



    

                   

Yeah, man, you fucked

your eye up.



    

                   

Yeah, great party, mate.



    

                   

It was fucking insane.



    

                   

- But good chat, seriously.

- Definitely.



    

                   

You know, they say the greatest

conversation you'll ever have...



    

                   

...is with a stranger?

- Who says that?



    

                   

Some useless cunt.



    

                   

You guys need a ride?

We can go uptown.



    

                   

Me and Mallory...



    

                   

Don't know. We're gonna

catch a late drink...



    

                   

...cup of tea, something or other.



    

                   

Raise the flag, perhaps.



    

                   

Good luck. Thank you.



    

                   

That's it. Thank you, mate. Truly.



    

                   

London, lovely name, darling.



    

                   

- Thanks.

- Nice to meet you.



    

                   

- Have a safe flight.

- Nice to meet you.



    

                   

- Come by the bar, all right?

- I will.



    

                   

London, call me. Have a safe flight.



    

                   

We're gonna catch a little drink.



    

                   

All right.



    

                   

Can I ask you something?



    

                   

Yeah.



    

                   

You do love him?



    

                   

I never said I was in love with him.



    

                   

Listen, Syd.



    

                   

It's gonna be a really,

really long time...



    

                   

...before, you know,

I fall in love with anybody...



    

                   

...the way that I was in love with you.



    

                   

What time is it?



    

                   

It's like  :  .



    

                   

Six-thirty? Fuck. Shit.



    

                   

My plane leaves in like an hour.

Shit. Shit. Shit.



    

                   

I will see you again.



    

                   

I promise.



    

                   

I'm gonna miss you so much.



    

                   

I'm gonna miss you too.



    

                   

I gotta go.



    

                   

Sorry.



    

                   

- Hello.

- Hi.



    

                   

Sorry, I am... I'm just really late.



    

                   

- I don't even know my flight number.

- That's all right.



    

                   

Just for one second, okay?



    

                   

- Here's my ID.

- Thank you.



    

                   

Just give me a few minutes

while I look for your information.



    

                   

Okay. Bye.



    

                   

Goodbye.



    

                   

Bye.



    

                   

Bye.



    

                   

Okay, miss,

I have your flight information.



    

                   

Sorry.



    

                   

I think I might have missed my plane.

Can you make sure I'll be all right?



    

                   

London?



    

                   

I love you.



    

                   

- Can you give me a second, please?

- Sure. No problem.



    

                   

That's the first time you said it first.



    

                   

- Here you go. You're all set.

- Sorry.



    

                   

Okay.



    

                   

- So I'm set? Great.

- Yeah.



    

                   

- Here's your ticket.

- Thank you.



    

                   

- I'm not really sure where to go.

- Gate   . Upstairs.



    

                   

Thank you and have a great flight.











  

 
Special help by SergeiK