Previously...
This is not Hank's fault? Excuse me.
- What does that mean? - You didn't tell her.
Becca's father and I had a slight indiscretion.
She's got to be kidding me.
I don't want to hear about Felicia and her mid-life crisis.
Fuck me, bone me, stuff me. Take your pick.
Who else has he been fucking? You? Oh, gross.
Can't believe you slept with all of them.
You're a doddamn girl whisperer.
- Julian's a writer too. - Really.
He wrote The Artist Within. Fucking genius.
Why are you asking me to procure you drugs like I'm your assistant?
I'm dating my dream crush. Hitting my peak sexually.
Just give me my blow, and let's just call it a day.
No fucking way, Rick Springfield.
You just don't want me to be happy, Charlie.
Shit.
You're going to get your ass fired?
Not if I fire you first.
You want to go back to slinging Beamers in the Valley?
Maybe I got carried away.
What's the dilly, yo?
Where are you fine young wenches off to this evening?
- Dinner, yeah. - Great, I could eat.
You just give me a second?
I want to change my shirt. These pits are barking.
No, actually, that's pretty good. Salty.
Yeah, you girls want some of this? Check it out? Keeps you regular.
What are we thinking?
We're thinking that you weren't exactly invited.
That shit is cold.
You know Marcy's in a funk about the whole Rick Springfield of it all.
- So... - Hey, Chels.
We were going to take her out, show her a good time.
- Lady stuff. - I like the lady stuff.
I know you do.
I was kind of looking forward to this as a little family togetherness time.
Maybe next time.
'Cause I thought it might be good foreplay.
Family togetherness equals foreplay how exactly?
It's been quite some time since we've lain together...
As man and woman.
And it's going to be some time, Hank.
How many... days, weeks, months?
When I close my eyes, and I don't see you inside that annoying
little simp of a woman.
- That's gross. - Then maybe I'll be good to go.
I mean, roughly speaking.
- Why you got to be like that? - Was it good, Hank? The sex?
Did she rock your world? Did she fuck your brains out?
Stop, I was performing a service. When a plumber works on pipes,
he doesn't think about the quality of the pipes.
He just fixes the shit out of them, and then he goes the fuck home.
And drinks to forget.
All right, you guys have a lovely evening.
Say hi to the Marce for me. Tell her to keep her chin up.
I'll be fine here alone.br/Eating a pb&j under a bare bulb.
CALIFORNICATION
Series III Episode 34
Ground control to major dong.
Not a good time, Hank.
I'm getting a serious relocation vibe, here.
- You moving north of Wilshire? - I got the ax, Hank. Shit-canned.
Charlie Runkle is once again an agent without an agency.
- Rick Springfield ankled? - That's right.
That he-man, woman-hating salad-tosser is now in play.
Buck up, Chuck. You've still got me.
I'm bound to put pen to paper one of these days. Hey, fuck you.
All right, Runkle. Here are the rest of them.
I trust you will be discreet, especially with the ones
with my legs akimbo.
Sure thing, Sue.
The writer who doesn't write.
I take it you're off with Jerry Maguire, here.
Undoubtedly. Homies before hos, you know?
Ah, good. Well, it saved me a phone call.
There's no heat on you. You're as cold as a witch's cunny.
The lady's really got it in for me this evening.
It's just business. You understand.
- I get it. - Nothing personal.
Runkle, just because we no longer have a professional relationship
does not mean that you cannot wine me, dine me,
and stand-up 69 me once in a while, huh?
- Dear God. - Well, she's got a point.
There's no reason you should let a professional misstep come between you
and a quality 69.
So you fire me, but you still want me around as some sort of boy toy?
- How's Sundays for you? - Charlie Runkle is not a doormat.
He's not some little puppy that comes trotting back
after being kicked to the curb.
- You go, girl. - Suit yourself, stallion.
You know, we could have been lifelong fuck buddies, Runkle.
Leave your keys with Rhonda.
Collini, out.
She's a sweet woman.
Salt of the earth, really. I'm going to miss her.
- Really? - Not really.
Want to get some gin and juice?
Think I'm going to take me one of these.
Bad boy.
Two hamsters in a fucking cage, going round and round.
When will we ever learn?
I'm still working off last year's sins.
You're the one with fresh blood on your hands.
I didn't commit any crimes. Karen was clear across the country.
I thought we had an understanding. We did.
She did some things. Clearly I did some things.
But we're being very adult and European about it.
No matter what they say, bitches don't like it
when you fuck other bitches.
Word.
And they don't like it when you call them bitches, either.
FYI for you, Charlie Runkle.
So you think we'll ever get it right?
That remains to be seen.
I think that ultimately they're going to have to raise the white flag
and just accept us for the emotional retards that we are.
- One would think. - Yeah.
Just hope my wiener still works.
You'll be punishing that thing with gnarled, arthritic hands.
Don't you worry.
I still love her, though.
You know? My sweet little piece of marcipan.
Those boobies? Her teeny, tiny bajinie.
That's enough.
After all these years, she still gets this white man harder than rock.
Take it to the restroom.
Don't you have those moments sometimes?
You know, when you just... you think to yourself, God...
I love this woman, and I always will.
There was this one time...
I fell asleep in the Porsche outside of Bill's house.
- Just once? - Becca found me.
It was, like, two or three years ago, I think.
And Karen invited me in and made me breakfast.
Now, I know that Becca strong-armed her into inviting me in.
But, that's not the point.
She made me breakfast, and she didn't have to.
You know, she made me this omelet that was delicious.
Perfect breakfast. You know why? Because she made it for me.
And then she told me to grow the fuck up and get on with my life.
But that didn't matter. Because it was one of those moments
where I decided... I resolved... that I was going to keep on fighting.
You know, I've... I've lost many battles,
but I've never lost sight of the war.
No retreat, baby. No surrender.
Jesus Christ, Runkle, are you weeping again?
It was sweet. You... you moved me.
Jesus.
Get a load of this asshole.
No shit, Brosephina, you spilled on my buddy here.
I did, sorry.
- Hey, uh, excuse me. - You know what, let it go.
Excuse me. I don't mean to be a nudge.
Just now, when you said you were sorry,
it didn't really sound like you were sincere to me.
It was, like, "eh, I'm sorry." Perfunctory.
You understand that word?
Man, I am sorry. Did I spill on your girlfriend?
'Cause I can get you and your lady another drink.
I believe our manhood was just assailed.
I believe you're right.
What are we going to do about this?
I know what I'm going to do.
Fuck, I knew it.
Couple of real-life faggots.
That's right, baby.
We're here, we're queer, and get used to it.
Thank you.
Pop a breath mint or chew some gum every now and again.
Your mouth tastes like a hobo's taint.
Why you got to make me feel self-conscious?
Do you have gum or a breath mint or something?
- What are we going to do now? - Something fun?
You want to go back to my place, watch some DVDs?
The girls are out for the night.
I'm not going to watch pornography with you, Charlie. Creeps me out.
We'll watch a regular movie.
Last time you talked me into movie night,
I watched you play pocket pool for two hours.
Men should not experience pornography together.
Excuse me, Mr. Morality.
I didn't know you had these special rules about home entertainment.
The night is young. It's in diapers, for Christ's sakes.
What do you say, you and me, we go on a good, old-fashioned bender?
I could roll with that.
- You can roll with it? - I can roll with it.
Then, you roll with it, motherfucker.
Proceeding to roll.
I think I'm sewing it up.
I tell you, seriously. It has led me astray.
- Thank you. - That's disgusting.
And, also, what's it going to solve?
I'm lost.
Are you talking about your heart or your vagina?
Look at you. Using all the proper names for things.
Well, it is her father's favorite word.
I'm speaking of my vagina, sweetheart.
I don't have a heart anymore. I lost that years ago.
I think it was the night of the squirting incident.
Remember that, huh? Okay, I'll say no more.
You know what? You had the fantasy.
I mean, how many people can say
that they slept with their teen idol, right?
How many people can say they slept with Rick Springfield?
Only every tramp, ho, and thief in greater L.A. County.
Ah, what was I thinking?
You just... you don't put yourself out there like that.
- It was good... - Take notes.
Because you owed it to your younger self, right?
I mean, you needed to explore that whole area.
Really?
Were there any areas you explored when you was in New York?
- I don't think we need to... - What, mom?
Yes, please, not in front of the child.
No, screw that. Tonight, you're a grown's-up.
You're out on girls' night out... G.N.O.
You want a "zip" of my wine?
Oh, check it out.
- South of Heaven. - No.
First edition, signed by the author.
Portrait of the artist as a dirty young man.
- What did I inscribe? - "To Kelly: best oral ever."
- Who is Kelly? - I don't know.
- I think we should find out. - Poor Kelly.
Sounds like she had mad skills.
Early Hank Moody, going for 100 big ones.
That real money? Maybe in pesos.
That's 100% John Wayne-style American dollar.
People are willing to pay good money for my early, beer-soaked ramblings?
I've increased in value.
The Franklin mint can lick me where the good lord split me.
It's a shame that money doesn't go to you.
It goes to sleepy-eyes over there.
No shit. I do all the work
and weird beard over there profits off my words,
my autograph, my memories of sweet gifted Kelly.
It probably costs 100 bucks a week to keep him in tie dye
and Birkenstocks and crystals.
And you know there's no way I'm seeing my 10% either.
You could really use that ten spot right about now.
Cover me... I'm going Abbie Hoffman on this shit.
- I got you. - You know, Runkle.
- Information... - Take it on home.
Wants to be free.
- I think we're good. - Got it?
Let's go.
- We bad, we bad. - Stop that.
Let me get you covered, here.
- I what? - Don't do that, you're an ass.
Holy fuck, look at this.
The artist within gets himself an entire table.
How much does a first ejaculate sir Walter Dali go for?
- 95 bucks. - Yes.
I win.
Suck it and taste it, artist within my yam bag.
Hold on a second, I got to let one rip.
Switch with me?
- Come on. - Slow down!
Come on, man.
I'm down. Man down.
Get up. Get the man up.
Hey, don't fuck with the pinkberry.
We can't stop.
You know there's no one chasing you, right, dad?
- No? - So there isn't.
This is fun. We have fun.
Why are you looking at me like that, you goon?
Are you ready for an adventure, Marce?
No. Please stop doing that with your face.
We should move to New York, with our friends, the Van Der Moodys.
- What? - I did it. I got fired.
That's it... there's nothing tying us here, man.
You got dumped by a pervy rock star, and I lost my job.
Well, tell everybody.
- He's freaking me out. - Yeah, me too.
This is what two white winters will do to you.
My deeny's sewn up tighter than ever.
That was great, Charlie. Congratulations.
The next stop is the convenience store.
- What kind of snacks do you like? - Stop it.
You know what? It's past our bedtime. We gotta go.
- What about ours? - Way past your bedtime.
You know what? You get to put yourself to bed tonight.
From now on, you're going to be changing your own diapers
and wiping your own ass. I am done being your mommy.
But could you just say ass one more time again?
Because I can work with that for days.
I want you to have this. This is your heritage and your inheritance.
- I liberated it just moments ago. - What is that?
Who's Kelly?
I've been thinking about that for, like, ten minutes.
She's either a cocktail waitress from Toronto
or a very promising young marine biologist.
Either way, your father's very lucky to have known her.
Okay, that's it. Let's go.
- Your loss, ladies. - Thank you.
You're never going to know the splendor of a cheese doodle burp.
Stop selling, Runkle.
Good point.
Good evening.
I think she liked me.
Kim, wasabi?
Living the dream, Hank. Living the dream.
You get the booze. I'll get the snacks.
This is all the snack a brother needs.
You got your guilty pleasures. I got mine. I like...
The humanity.
- Jesus Christ, Hank, come on. - Jesus, Hank.
- I'm sorry, Kim. I'll pay for it. - You bet your ass you pay for it.
Shit, man.
- You got scolded. - Yeah.
I heard it.
Hey, I saw that.
- Saw what, homie? - Put that shit back.
The fuck you care?
Kim and his wife are good people, and you're stealing from them.
You need money, get a paper route.
- Whatever. - Leave him alone, Hank.
No, the kid's stealing. That's not cool.
He's a kid, and need I remind you,
we borrowed ourselves some hardcover nonfiction this evening?
- That is different. - Of course.
There's no law against an author stealing his own work.
What about Julian?
There's no law against stealing from a colossal douchebag.
Wait, check this out. No, I got an idea.
No, no. No, it's cool.
You put that shit back, and I'll give you this book.
People swear by it. It'll change your life.
And if it doesn't, you can use it as toilet paper.
Check it out. The Artist Within.
- Hank. - My ass.
Here you go. Yeah, take it. Shut up, Charlie, I'm schooling this kid.
What?
Dude, give me your fucking wallet.
- Take it easy. - Hurry the fuck up, man.
You win, all right. Settle down. No, you got it.
- Take it easy. - Shut the fuck up.
Just take it. Treat yourself.
What, are you kidding me? What the fuck is this?
- I work on commission, bro. - Shut the fuck up.
- You think this is a fucking joke? - I got a daughter.
Oh, shit.
Get out of my store, motherfuckers! Get out!
You motherfuckers!
- Get back here! - Fuck me.
I thought that was it, Hank. The end.
I know what you mean, broheme.
- What was going through your head? - What do you think?
Karen and Becca. And how much I love them.
And how much time I've wasted being a selfish prick.
What a cosmic fuck-you it would be if you were the last person I kissed
before I died.
I don't know. I think it would have been kind of poetic, actually.
- For you, maybe. - I know what you mean, though.
I had my whole life flash before my eyes, really.
Just like, uh, like a tivo on fast-forward.
And you know what? It was really fucking pathetic.
I believe you.
Okay, what now? Where do we go from here?
I'm not entirely sure. But if you thought
we were drinking before, you were dead wrong because now...
we are going to do some drinking. You with me?
Till the end, my nubian brother. Till the bitter end.
I love you, bro.
Settle down. Don't soil yourself.
Again.
Make the car go very fast.
Okay, just one drink.
So that missy here doesn't slit her wrists when she's left all alone.
Oh, but you forget. I won't be alone.
'Cause I got Yertle the turtle as my roommate.
All the disadvantages of being married and none of the advantages.
And what would those be, if you don't mind my asking?
- Those what? - The advantages of being married.
I need to know so I don't end up as bitter as you guys.
Shit, is that how we sound?
So far I haven't heard much in the pro men column.
The best you can hope for, I guess, is that they make you
laugh and occasionally fix things around the house.
That would be great. What?
I would kill for a guy to fix things around the house.
- What we meant to say was... - Don't look at me.
I know I'm bitter. I own that shit.
- I ams who I's ams. - I'm not bitter.
Am I bitter?
Maybe I am.
I'm disillusioned. That's what I am. I'm definitely disillusioned.
Come on, mom. What did you think would happen?
Did you think if you left he would grow up all of a sudden?
No, I just... I wish we didn't have to prop him up all the time.
What's the point in wishing for something
that's never going to come true? He's never going to change, mom.
He's always going to be that drunken fool
in the middle of Abbot Kinney. The same guy who wrote this book.
And if that's not what you want, then you have to be
the one to walk away. Because he never will.
God, Jesus.
I love this little Buddha you shot out of your vag.
So wise.
Jesus.
Feel like I've been fucked in the ass by God himself.
And he... he... He pulled out and jizzed all over my face.
Got in my eyes, and now I can't even open them properly.
I'm hungry. You?
So our ladies must be worried sick about us, huh?
- You know why? - Why?
'Cause we're a couple of dirty stay-outs.
No missed calls.
Huh, me neither.
Well, whatever.
Oh, this was fun. We should do this more often.
I can do this because I'm an artist. But you're a fucking businessman.
A sucker in a three-piece suit. You got to keep your shit together.
- Doesn't sound very fair at all. - I didn't make the rules.
You know, you're a good friend, you bald motherfucker.
- I'm lucky to have you. - Same here, buddy.
You're a really good kisser, too, you know that?
Karen doesn't know what she's missing right now.
There's a good chance I would have forgotten about that.
Thanks for calling it back.
God, I am sore. My fucking back is killing me.
Got quite a workout last night, huh?
- Hey, Charlie? - Yeah.
- Did we get tattoos last night? - Did we what?
Oh, no, Hank. Hank, what did I do?
I don't know, but we're about to find out.
Bend over, big boy, and drop your drawers.
And I hope that's the last time I ever say that to you.
Jesus Christ, say it ain't so, Hank.
Oh, it is so. It is definitely so.
Why would you let me do that, Hank?
Why would you let me get a tramp stamp?
Why would you do that to me?
Look on the bright side. It's a beautiful tattoo.
The artist definitely outdid his self.
Jesus Christ, it's a God damn butterfly,
isn't it Hank? Now I remember. It's all coming back to me.
I'm such a fucking idiot.
Come on. Let's go.
We're going to the removal place right now.
Come on, let's go!
Good morning.
- How was your night? - It was great. It was really good.
- Great. - Yours?
Mine was interesting. Definitely had its moments.
I didn't fuck anyone, if that's what you're wondering.
- No, I wasn't, actually. - Bullshit.
- How's Marcy? - Uh, she'll live, you know.
Well, that's good. And you? How are you?
- I'm trying. - That's all anybody can ask, huh?
Right.
Hey, check this out.
- Hank, don't... - No.
- Am I supposed to be impressed? - That's the idea, yeah.
I scar myself for you. I stigmatize myself for you.
And that's all I get as a response, is "hmm?"
Are you hungry?
Would you like some breakfast?
I would love some breakfast.
CALIFORNICATION Episode 34