All language subtitles for Queer as Folk s04e09 Have Some Balls.eng

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Isn't this fun?

Maybe for you, but that's because you are a sadistic shit!

Who? Me?

I'll never tell you where the jewels are!

Make that "jewel".

Now lie still. Who knows? If you're lucky,

you might even get a few more good years,

like me!

Mr. Kinney? Mr. Kinney?

That's it for today, Mr. Kinney.

We'll see you again tomorrow.

And I should warn you:

You'll feel fine for the next few hours,

but you're going to hit a wall around noon.

Nausea, pain, fatigue. They're all normal side effects.

In fact, I would suggest that for the next few days,

you just stay home, take it easy. Don't go to work.

Huh. Thank you, nurse.

That's excellent advice.

First thing we do when we get to Hollywood is go to Universal Studios.

The rides sound awesome.

And then we do the Grave Line tour.

It takes you to all the places where stars have been murdered.

And then...

Then, we go to Grauman's Chinese Theatre

and we steal John Wayne's footprints.

Lucy.

"I Love Lucy"?

They went to Hollywood and...

never mind.

Could you save me some cereal?

Aren't you being a bit premature?

Why? We're going, aren't we?

You said Brett told you it was a done deal.

That's Mr. Keller to you. And nothing's a done deal until it's done.

I'm done.

So, busy day?

Oh, classes, research at the library, student advisor meetings.

I'm also supposed to hear from Greenpoint Press.

Are they interested in your novel?

Hmm, let's just say the editor seemed receptive,

which at least is better than another rejection.

So keep your fingers crossed.

He should try to eat some grain in the morning instead of those crappy shakes.

He'd be a lot happier, not to mention regular.

I think it's going to take more than a bowl of bran.

And you could try and be a little more sensitive.

Huh?

"Huh?"

Ben is going through a tough time right now.

I'm sure all this talk isn't making it any easier.

So from now on, let's try not to use the word "Hollywood" in a sentence.

What the fuck are you doing here?

I'm waiting for you.

You won't answer the door,

you won't return my calls.

Well, that should be a hint.

Why won't you see me?

Cynthia! Cynthia!

Jesus, Brian, what's going on?

You can't just kick me out.

Watch me. I don't want his calls,

I don't want him in this office, and if he comes near me, I want a restraining order.

Got it?

And if some asshole named Vic Grassi calls from hell,

you can tell him I'm in a meeting.

Well, Vic, it's not quite the headstone I'd originally intended.

But as you may have heard,

Michelangelo's not taking any more commissions.

But it's solid,

it's hard, smooth.

Come to think of it,

that's a lot of the attributes you liked in a man.

Ooh-hoo. Hoo.

Okay, whoever invents a cell phone that's also a vibrator

is going to make a fortune.

'Scuse me, Deb?

Yeah. Don't worry, honey.

Hello?

Vic's in no hurry.

Oh, hey...

so I'll plant flowers this spring. Make it more homey, okay?

And, um...

Vic, I just want to say,

wherever you are...

of course I know where you are, you're in heaven. Where the hell else would you be?

...That, um,

in spite of our little falling out,

not... not that it was so little,

it nearly put me in the ground beside you...

that I love you...

with all my heart.

You know that, baby, don't you?

Arrested?

And that I hope that you've forgiven me for what I did.

What did you do?

D.U.I.?

Well, who's going to help me cater the party tonight?

And all because of this silly party.

No, I will not recommend an attorney, unless you recommend a chef.

Rest in peace...

little brother.

Rot in hell, you little fucker.

Oh, Vic. Vic, why'd you have to die?

I know, honey.

I know. But he's in a better place.

It's a warm and wonderful place, filled with love and possibilities.

You'll have to forgive my wife. She tends to...

wax poetic in direct proportion to the size of my tummy.

Oh, come on. You've done your fair share of waxing yourself.

I've never once waxed,

and even if I did,

our paltry expressions would pale in comparison to Michael's rhapsodizing.

Holy shit!

Would you check out the dick on this kid?

Or not.

That's the umbilical cord.

And besides, you can't tell from this if it's a boy or girl.

Although something tells me a princess is on the way.

Well, it's okay with me if he's gay.

I got to run.

We're installing the Auerbach show.

Don't forget Lamaze.

You think we could move it?

Hey, why don't I go?

You?

Is it a class for lesbian mothers?

I won't shave my legs.

No one will notice.

No, of course not.

Good. Then it'll serve as a gentle reminder that

until someone comes up with a better plan,

you still need a man for some things.

Hey, where have you been?

I need those panels so I can come up with some dialogue for the evil anal probers.

How about, "Up your ass"?

Sounds about right.

Hey.

Hey! What's with you?

What do you think?

You told him that we knew, didn't you?

Look, I...

I didn't mean to. It just...

What, slipped out?

"We know you have cancer".

That is the fucking lamest excuse I've ever heard.

You're the one who said that we should be strong and honour his wishes.

I'm sorry.

Do you have any idea how hard that's been?

Why are you sorry?

Did he kick you out?

Did he say he never wanted to see you again?

Well, if that's the way he wants it, I'll be glad to honour those wishes too.

Professor Bruckner.

That's me.

I'm sure you don't remember me. I was...

in your 1-10 seminar last year.

There are so many students in that seminar.

Anthony Flynn.

I hope you enjoyed it.

Huh. It was great.

In fact, I even went out and bought your book, "RU12".

Oh. But did you read it?

A few times, actually.

I loved it. So well written.

You know, I agree with what the critics said on the jacket.

Oh. Send them a free copy, they'll say anything.

No, I'D... I'd really like to talk to you about it some time.

You see, I'm a writer too. Well, trying to be.

As much as I'd like that, Anthony,

it's, uh, my policy not to fraternize with my students.

Even former ones?

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to put you in an awkward position.

No, it's okay.

It's just that your book really spoke to me.

As a gay man, I mean.

By the time I'd finished it, I felt I'd discovered things about myself I'd never known.

Thank you.

Flynn.

Yeah, you used to sit about halfway back,

way over on the right by the window with the fire escape.

That's me.

It's a simple but elegant menu;

lobster, filet mignon, salad.

And of course, dessert.

Uh-huh.

Uh-huh. No, sure, I understand.

Well, that was the last possibility.

Ah, poor Em.

I keep forgetting how important Vic was to you too, honey.

Without him, your business is fucked, huh?

But never fear, 'cause help is here.

Where?

You're looking at it.

I'll cancel my shift tonight. I'll lend you a hand.

Oh, thanks. But, uh, I need more than a hand,

I need an entire body, preferably one belonging to a chef.

What's the matter with my cooking?

Don't take this the wrong way, but not everything is covered in marinara sauce.

Fine.

"The October Detective"?

Hmm. It's one in a series.

Of 12?

How did you guess?

When it comes to clues, I'm quick.

For instance, I've, uh,

never known you to read detective novels.

So?

So, I would surmise, using my

brilliant powers of deduction,

that it has something to do with one Lieutenant Horvath.

Sorry, Sherlock.

Carl came here strictly as a friend,

and there's nothing between us.

Oh, the look in his eyes said otherwise.

What do you know about the look in a man's...

never mind, I take it back.

Stop living in a book

and start living your life.

Mmm, god, this chocolate mousse is scrumptious.

Perhaps I underestimated your culinary skills.

My chocolate mousse is covered in marinara sauce.

This is from that sweet kid, Darren.

You know, the one who got bashed?

I sent him food every day from the diner,

and now he's sends me goodies back.

Kind of like a thank you.

And he does it all himself.

I tell you, he can dance, he can cook.

He's a knockout in a dress.

He'd be a real catch for some lucky guy.

Em?

Em?

Where'd the fuck he go?

Brian?

Brian?

Jesus Christ, what's wrong?

Nothing.

I'm fine. Why do you ask?

Well, for one thing, you look like shit.

Thank you.

Okay, look. Now, this is the second time this has happened.

Fucking accountants. Do you have to keep a record of everything?

I just want you to know that you can trust me,

as a friend, and as someone who has been through it all. I mean, there is

nothing I haven't seen or done, which is why I don't presume to judge anyone.

But there's one thing I know:

The first and hardest step you'll ever have to take...

is admitting you have a problem.

And once you've done that,

you're on the road to recovery...

It's the "big C", Ted.

Cocaine?

It's bigger.

Crystal?

Bigger.

Caffeine?

It's cancer, Theodore.

C-c-c-c...

Yeah, c-c-c-c.

But relax.

They got it.

I'm in radiation.

Started this morning.

Would you excuse me for a moment?

I can't tell you how relieved I am.

I mean, that...

that you're going to be all right.

Thank you.

Is there anything I can do?

Yeah, as a matter of fact,

you can do three things.

First...

keep your big mouth shut,

or you're fired.

Sealing. Sealing.

Second?

I want you to cover for me this afternoon

with Dandy Lube.

Wait, cover f-for you?

Make the presentation.

But I... I...

Look, if you could pretend...

that you were Pavarotti at that

pathetic pasta palace,

you can do this.

What's the third?

Call me a cab.

I'm going home.

And the part where all your friends were turning positive...

How about over there?

Uh, fine.

But you still hadn't been infected.

Yeah, I remember feeling terrified that I'd be next.

But at the same time...

feeling like I just wanted to get it over with.

Then when you converted, it...

it put you in a whole different place.

Spiritually,

emotionally,

politically.

You know, I have to tell you, uh...

it was very moving.

Anthony, may I ask you a personal question?

I feel like I already know so much about you,

it's only fair.

Are you positive?

No.

But your book still spoke to me.

And isn't that the measure of any great book?

That it speaks to everyone?

Oh, I don't know about that.

I mean, about it being a great book. But thanks.

So the question is,

when's the next one coming out?

Mm, that is the question.

Just finished a novel about two men,

set in Paris in the '30s.

Sounds great.

Mm-hm, there're a couple dozen publishers who don't agree with you. They've

all turned it down.

Well, I'd love to read it...

if you'd let me.

I don't know.

Hey, I'm an English lit major, a budding young writer, and I work in a library.

Oh, and I got an "A" in your course.

That should qualify me to know a little something about good writing.

At the risk of losing a fan...

or...

gaining an even bigger one.

I'd be the man in mankind

An universal he

Every door that once was shut would open for me

If I were a man

If I were a man I'd like to meet somebody like me

Huh. If I were a man I'd like to meet somebody like me

Bravo!

I mean, brava!

I'm, um, Emmett Honeycutt,

I live with Debbie Novotny.

We met at the

"so what if it's not Christmas? We're having a Christmas party anyway" party.

Right.

You are fabulous.

I just love the routines, the gowns...

the chocolate mousse.

Excuse me?

I'm a party planner.

Debbie's brother, Vic, uh, was my chef before he passed away.

He's gone now, but our business isn't.

And if anyone knows the show must go on, it's you. So...

You want Shanda Leer to perform at a party?

No. I want Darren to cook for a party.

But, uh...

I'm not a chef.

Well, you do a fabulous impersonation of that too.

I mean, those delicacies you've been sending over to Deb's are to die for.

No offence, Vic.

I'd love to help you out, but...

Shanda's making a comeback.

Whoo. God, I hate that word.

It's a...

return.

There's just no time.

Well, you can't blame a girl for trying.

Good luck. Uh...

break a leg.

If I were a man...

damn.

Didn't mean it literally.

Look at this. Ruined.

Do you know how much these satin pumps in a size 11-12 cost?

Huh. Not to mention the new gowns, and the hair.

Shanda may be a star, but she's going to drive me to the poorhouse.

Honey, let's review.

You need dough,

and I need someone to stuff it with spinach and porcini mushrooms.

Mail's here.

Since when do I get special delivery?

Since this arrived from that place I'm not supposed to use in a sentence.

It's from Brett.

You mean Mr. Keller.

Stop staring and open the goddamn letter, already.

Well?

It's two cheques, one made out to Justin and one made out to me, each for...

$10,000.

10,000... oh my god!

We're rich!

Not quite.

But we will be.

Just imagine, Rage on the silver screen. Big budget special effects.

Millions in fast-food merchandising tie-ins.

Tom cruise pumping away in hot, superhero man-sex.

Careful. He'll sue your ass.

Can't sue someone for dreaming.

Speaking of dreams,

this came too.

It's from Greenpoint Press.

Well, you can't open someone else's mail.

It's a federal offence.

I can see it now.

I'm on death row, awaiting a lethal injection.

This mass murderer who killed 48 babies and ate them

asks me what I'm being executed for.

I say, "Opening Ben's letter."

Still, it's not ethical.

Ethical, schmethical.

Oops. Too late.

Should I seal it back up?

Well, I suppose since it's already open...

that's what I like, a man with values.

Well?

They think it sucks.

Shit.

Shit.

Ben's going to be so upset.

Not if he never gets it.

Gimme that.

Mmm.

Am I interrupting?

Just about to devour my Manwich.

In my neighbourhood, that's three guys fucking.

Come on in.

Have a seat.

How you doing?

Better.

Thanks in no small part to you.

I'm glad to hear it.

I'm, um... I'm sorry you're finishing lunch, 'cause I was

gonna take you up on your offer.

You know, step out, have a bite?

But I have to warn you, Carl, I haven't changed much.

I've still got a big mouth and I still speak my mind, and...

I'm still as stubborn as a prom week pimple.

But if that's still okay with you, then how about dinner?

Debbie...

I've been having these dreams about lobster lately.

I'm adrift on this sea of melted butter and...

Debbie.

What?

I've been seeing someone.

Oh.

Couple of months now.

Her name's Katharine.

Well, that's good news.

See, when I asked you if you wanted to get a bite,

it was as friends.

I hope I didn't give you the wrong...

Oh no, no. Not at all.

Katharine.

I had an aunt named Katharine.

She was a great lady. She was named after Katharine Hepburn.

Another great lady.

I'm very happy for you, Carl.

I truly am.

The difference between our lube and their lube is, our lube says...

"sex."

If you, uh...

If you want to be cool, if you want to be popular,

if you want to get laid, this is the lube you use.

On your car, I mean.

I fail to see how

getting an oil change or having your tires rotated can improve your sex life.

Well, see, that's where you're wrong.

I'm wrong?

Not... not wrong. I mean, uh,

no, just... not right.

What he means is that with...

a sexier, more playful new image,

you can expand Dandy Lube's share of the market.

Yeah, that... that's it. Just what she said.

By suggesting we have half-naked muscle boys

offering lube-jobs in a, uh, clothing-optional garage?

By appealing to women and gay men.

That's an interesting point, Dad.

Gays are an important demographic these days.

Well, we're meeting with Vangard this afternoon.

I'm sure they'll have a more, uh, straightforward approach.

Coming, Doug?

Could you direct me to the men's room?

Down the hall to your left.

That'd be your cue.

My cue?

To nail the account.

Oh no, I couldn't. I mean...

Well, what makes you think that he...?

Suppose he's not, and I...

Well, it never stopped Brian.

Make him proud.

Oh-h.

Your presentation was very...

interesting.

Huh. Your father didn't seem to think so.

Dad just hears the initial pitches and...

then it's up to me to follow through.

So, do you have anything else you'd like to show me?

Yeah.

This.

Perfect timing.

Your drawings have just come back from the framer's.

Don't you like it?

I already know what my stuff looks like.

I'm far more interested in seeing something that isn't mine.

Oh, that's nothing.

Just a minor piece by an unknown artist.

Peterson. "Figure study".

Sam, Sam. Wait.

I-I... I'm not sure you're going to like it.

I'm not even sure I like it.

Then why'd you have it framed?

Good question.

Something wrong?

No. Nothing.

Why do you ask?

You're hyper-ventilating.

You better sit down.

Wouldn't want you to do something girlie,

like faint.

Easy for you to say.

Sam Auerbach isn't about to evaluate your work.

Ho-ly shit!

I knew you wouldn't like it. Don't look.

No... Would... would you sit down and shut up?

You flatter me, my dear.

By at least a couple inches.

What about the rest of you?

Doesn't look like me.

That's what Gertrude Stein said to Picasso about her portrait.

Know what he said?

Hmm.

"It will."

It's good. It's really good.

If I weren't me, I'd be jealous.

Oh... you were the inspiration.

You know, if you weren't a fucking dyke, I'd ask you to marry me.

Oh, is that how it works?

You propose to any woman who flatters you?

Generally speaking. And with disastrous results.

Well if I weren't already married, I might just accept.

Brian.

Brian!

Brian?

Jesus, what happened to you?

Chernobyl.

Christ, you should be in bed.

Well, I was, but...

someone kept knock, knock, knocking at my fucking door.

What are you doing?

I'm making some chicken soup.

There's nothing in here but beer and poppers.

All the essentials.

Well, we're going to have to stock up on groceries.

Michael...

As long as I'm here, I can do your laundry.

Michael!

This is exactly why I did not want anyone to know.

It's why I told everyone I went to Ibiza,

in the hopes that I wouldn't be treated like an invalid, or a victim,

or like I was going to die. Now would you get out of here!

What don't you understand about "fuck off"?

Oh, you think you can kick me out of here the way you did Justin?

And for what?

Trying not to let on that he knew,

because that's the way you wanted it?

He deserves to know. He's your lover.

Your partner, whether you want to admit it or not.

And sick or not, that's a fucking shitty way to treat him.

I was only trying to make it easier.

By never seeing him again?

He would've left sooner or later anyway. Might as well be sooner.

What are you talking...

Would you just go home, Michael?

Go home to your wife and your kid.

Have I told you how much I love you?

Not for at least 10 minutes.

Then I'd better remind you.

Excuse me.

What a fool I've been.

All those Sunday afternoons going to tea dances at Woody's,

when I could've been going to football games instead.

Those Iron Men are delectable.

Almost as delectable as your cherries jubilee.

We're about to make the announcement!

Here we go.

Can we have your attention, everyone?

Drew and I have an announcement to make.

As you all know, there's only one person who's

better at kicking balls than I am, and that's sierra.

So after threatening to kick mine over the goal post, I've finally agreed to marry her.

We're engaged!

Hey, drew, where'd you get those caterers?

Looks like a couple of flamers to me.

Excuse me, Mr. Boyd.

I hope I'm not, uh, out of place for saying this.

Actually, I don't give a fuck if I am.

Back in Hazelhurst, uh, Mississippi, where I grew up,

I was always taught that if a real man has something to say about someone,

he says it to his face, not behind his back.

So even though you may be a... a star,

you know, captain of the team, hero to millions,

you still have a lot to learn about being a man.

Flaming cherries jubilee?

Oh, thank you.

It looks like someone's opened it.

Really?

It must've been one of the neighbours.

They're always snooping.

They rejected it.

We know!

I mean...

that totally sucks.

I'm sorry, Ben.

Well, I guess that's that.

Didn't some famous writer

like, Ernest Hemingway or Stephen King

send their book to 24 publishers before someone finally accepted it?

This was the 25th.

Still, you're a wonderful writer,

and you have a million stories inside you.

And that's why I got you something to help you tell them.

What's that?

It's called a computer.

You said you needed a new one.

I didn't realize you could afford something this extravagant.

It was me. I paid for it. I've been moonlighting.

Shut up.

I got a cheque today from...

Hollywood.

So you read my mail,

figured you'd better do something to cheer me up,

and went out and bought me a computer?

That's pretty much the plot in a nutshell.

Well I don't want your consolation prize or your pity.

Ben.

So, uh...

does this mean I get the computer?

Nice to see you back on the job.

As Liberty Avenue's leading fag-hag?

Accept no substitutes.

Cosmo, please.

So how was your party?

Did Darren work out?

Ah, kid's got quite a range.

Kitsch to kitchen.

As for me, it was my usual triumph, except for the host.

Some macho asshole, plays for the Iron Men.

Halfback...

quarterback...

thirdback.

Yeah, straight guys, you can keep 'em.

No thanks.

Although there is a certain detective I'd hold onto, if I were you.

Refill, please.

Did you hear what I said?

Just when you hand them your heart, they go and...

drop-kick it.

Hidden in the football metaphor is a secret clue. Uh...

I suspect to another woman?

Hmm. Damn, you're good.

It's like Oliver Marconi all over again.

He was a sweet boy.

Lived next door to us when I was growing up.

And he had a huge crush on me.

Of course, I didn't know he was alive until he and his family moved away.

Then I started aching for him.

But it was too late.

It's funny, I...

I still hold a piece of my heart for him.

Same as I do for Carl.

So he's dating.

So what?

Doesn't mean anything.

Hell, dating in this place just means you

sucked some guy's dick and went out for coffee.

Well, unless there's something he's not telling me...

this chick ain't got a dick.

And it's more than a cuppa Joe.

He's gone, em.

I lost him.

Beautiful.

Excellent.

What about you?

Why aren't you breathing?

Me?

This is a team effort.

Your rhythm helps maintain her rhythm. Mmm?

Right.

My rhythm?

Who does she think I am, B.B. King?

She probably thinks you're my husband and we're this cute married couple, like them.

I'd say we're cuter.

Wouldn't she be surprised to know the truth?

Maybe not.

Maybe she'd just think, "How sweet," or, "Isn't that interesting?"

Better yet, maybe she wouldn't care at all.

I think it's amazing, how far we've come.

You and Ben, me and Lindsay.

I'd say we're fucking lucky to have such stable home lives,

wonderful mates whom we love and who love us,

one beautiful child and another one on the way.

Bright futures all around.

Bright futures all around.

Hey.

I was just at Lamaze class with Mel.

I came for the cheque.

Oh, right.

I was going to drop it off.

Thanks.

Hey, wait up.

What for?

I saw Brian last night.

Lucky you.

He looked like shit.

Felt so bad, he could hardly get out of bed.

I'm sorry to hear that, but it really doesn't concern me any more.

That's bullshit.

He fucking kicked me out.

He said he didn't want to see me again.

More like, he doesn't want you to see him.

You've read the Kinney operating manual.

He thinks now that he's sick,

that he's no longer perfect, that you won't love him any more...

that you're going to leave him.

That's crazy, even for him.

Not if you put all your eggs in one basket, so to speak.

He... when...

when being young, being beautiful, being Brian Kinney is what it's all about;

you take that away, he figures, what's he got?

That needs to go over there,

and I think we need a larger piece for that space.

Hey, kids, let's put on a show.

What are you doing here?

I didn't want you seeing anything until it's finished.

Ah, I'm sure it'll be just ducky.

"Ducky"?

This may be small potatoes to you,

considering you've had shows at every major gallery and museum all over the world.

But to us yokels here in Pittsburgh, this is a big deal.

Did I say anything?

I just want everything to be perfect.

Do right by you and your work.

You will, kiddo. You're world-class.

I am?

In fact, reminds me of my last retrospective in Venice.

Couldn't find a fucking ashtray there either.

Heads up!

Oh. That was a close call.

It wasn't that bad.

Then why are you shaking?

Writing?

Preparing a lecture.

How about I order a pizza?

Uh, not hungry.

How about you handcuff me to the bed...

Michael. Can't you see I'm working?

Yes, now that you mention it, I can.

I can also see the new computer I got you, sitting alone,

ignored, like some geeky guy at the prom.

Jesus.

Look, I know what you've been going through.

Believe it or not, I've had more than my fair share of rejections.

Like by practically every club, every college, every job I ever went out for.

But you're being accepted now. That's all that counts.

But I just don't want you to blame me, or make me feel like it's my fault.

Sorry if I did that.

I have no one to credit for my failure but myself.

Which is why I've...

decided to re-evaluate my goals.

Um, re-focus my energy and...

stop writing.

At least for a while. I...

I feel I should start concentrating my efforts on what I do best,

which is to teach.

It's where my skills are, it's where my life is leading me.

Ben...

Ooh, I... in fact, I...

got to go to my office.

Now?

I left some reference books I need for my lecture.

And a pile of term papers.

Well, when will you be back?

Don't know.

I'm sure you can return it and get your money back.

Is sierra in?

She's off with her girlfriends, seeing some chick flick.

Oh. Well, I stopped by to pick up a cheque and my equipment.

Yeah, she left you a cheque. Come in.

Well?

Here you go.

Thanks.

I'll just get my equipment and...

how about a beer?

I'm not supposed to be drinking, but you know,

I'm in pretty good shape.

Wouldn't you say?

I'd say one beer is not going to ruin that six-pack.

Oh, that's last week's game.

Coach makes us watch ourselves.

Which one are you?

Number seven.

Very graceful.

In a rugged, manly way.

You know, there's something I've always wanted to ask.

Why the tight pants?

So there's nothing to grab onto if you're tackled.

And why are you always patting each other's asses?

Just friendly encouragement.

You know, I don't see much difference in how you play your game on Sunday afternoons

and how I play my game on Saturday nights.

Here.

Catch.

Ohmygod!

Did you see that?

I caught it.

Never caught a ball in my life.

Oof!

You okay?

This also isn't much different than my Saturday nights.

You have A...

a very nice body.

You think so?

Strong, uh...

hard.

Feel my bicep.

Go on.

Now feel this.

What about sierra?

She thinks I have a nice body too.

I was working late and figured you might be too.

So I took a chance and stopped by.

Well, you figured right.

Except, as you can see, I'm...

a little busy doing research for this lecture.

Then I won't keep you.

I just wanted to tell you I read your book.

Already? That was fast.

It's like I missed the last 36 hours.

I was so enthralled, I couldn't put it down.

That's a first. Most people could barely pick it up.

What the fuck do they know?

I'd like to think not much.

Exactly.

Thank you, Anthony.

No. Uh...

thank you, for...

entrusting me with it.

When you have a spare moment, maybe we can go for coffee again.

Discuss it.

Right.

Anthony.

Actually, I have a moment now.

Bri? Dandy Lube just called.

We got 'em.

Way to go, Theodore.

Yeah. I told you you could do it.

Yeah.

It was a little dicey at first, but, uh...

Yeah, I managed to convince them.

How'd you do that?

Just thought to myself,

"What would Brian Kinney do?"

After that, it was a snap.

You know, you don't look so hot. Why don't you...

why don't you let me, uh, mind the shop and you go home? Hmm?

I thought I told you to get out.

I guess I didn't hear.

You tend to mumble a lot.

You want some soup?

It's Debbie's home-made recipe.

Well, no wonder I feel like barfing.

Listen to me, you little shit:

I don't want you here.

I don't care what you want.

You're not getting rid of me.

Shit. Are you all right?

Tell me you're...

I'm all right!

You're not all right.

Then what the hell are you asking me for?

So that I can tell you what a motherfucking piece of shit you are

for not telling me, for shutting me out,

for thinking that you could handle this on your own,

and most of all, for thinking that I would leave you. Why would you think that?

Because you had a ball removed?

Because you're no longer perfect?

Well, believe me, Mr. Kinney,

that is the least of your imperfections.

And if I'd wanted to leave you, I've had better reasons. Plenty of them.

Maybe you should have.

Yeah, maybe you're right.

But I thought we had a commitment.

And I plan to stand by it.

I want you to get your ass back in bed, you son of a bitch.

And eat some fucking chicken soup.

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