Previously...
-How's school? -I'm working on a novel.
What are you gonna fill a novel with?
-Life, love, sex, death. -What do you know about those things?
-Take him with you, groupie! -Watch your tongue! This is Faith.
Grasp the cosmic importance of this lovely young lady.
Without her, there'd be no rock and roll.
Tony talked about you all the time.
He said you had an uncanny ability to suck killer riffs out of him.
-I'm sorry I was such a bitch. -I'm sorry I fucked your husband.
But you haven't nailed it yet. 'Cause I could be the hammer.
I'm in the middle of an epic shit storm.
I fired my manager last week, and I'm all out of cocaine.
Might you be in the market for new representation?
If you can get me Peruvian flake, I'll think about throwing you in the mix.
Here you go, asshole.
It would be an honor to work with you. See you tomorrow... afternoon.
-I think it's time, Becca. -For what?
-Time you went back to school. -No, I'm not doing that.
-What are you doing? -I'm living the life of an artist.
I got it, but what does that mean to you?
Because there's a lot more to being an artist
than just altering your consciousness on a daily basis.
I know, which is why I'm writing on a daily basis.
You are? How many pages you got?
I'm closing in on 3 hundred. I'm going to finish it.
-My first novel. -I hate you.
Do you want to know how many boys I've slept with?
No. That's disgusting.
I'm going through an extremely slutty phase.
Take this and just hit me over the head with it ?
I won't get mad, I promise.
I want to experience everything while I still can.
Every taste, every smell.
Stop gagging. You're not my father right now.
You're my artistic guidance counselor. You can't judge me.
Your mom can judge you, and she's worried about you.
-She thinks I'm headed down your path. -What's so bad about that?
-That's what I said. -That's my girl.
I'm not judging you. But promise me that you'll keep it simple.
Get your drink on, keep the pages coming,
smoke a little peaches and herb even, but stay away from the hard stuff.
And no more of tasting and smelling. That's disgusting.
What about blowjobs?
Hank! We gotta go!
Thank God. Charlie, I will go anywhere with you.
Because my daughter is asking me about blowjobs.
-Where we off to? -Atticus needs you.
That sounds exhausting. He's like a retarded rock and roll puppy.
-Will you blow him off for me? -He's my biggest client, Hank.
-How many records have you sold? -Are you wearing eye shadow?
Becca, I have to take your father away from you.
Get him out of my sight. Do you mind if I crash here,
do some writing, maybe have a few people over?
I got alcohol. I got pornography. I got pictionary.
Have fun.
No blowjob!
CALIFORNICATION Season 6, episode 66
Welcome aboard "Air Force 69", where your every wish is our command.
-Really? -Atticus makes us say this shit.
But we will make out with each other if you want.
Okay.
Krull, the English Danish. What's shakin', Magic Mountain?
-Here, show me so love. -No love, no love.
-Kruller, this is Charlie Runkle. -I've got my eye on the both of you.
Good talking.
Hank! Thank you for coming.
-Why am I here? -I've got nothing.
What do you mean?
Do you know how much money they're paying me for this thing?
-No, I don't. -More than you'll see in your life.
I've made a fair amount of cabbage in my day.
How cute! Your proletariat hopes and dreams.
Do you know how many songs I've written for this venture?
No, but why don't you tell me?
Zero. Zero point zero fucking zero.
-That doesn't sound good. -It's bloody terrible.
You played a song for me at your party the other night.
I wrote that when I was 12 years old. I was trying to recycle it.
That's why it was so shitty.
Wasn't too shitty for the judges of my year nine talent contest.
-What am I doing here? -I need you, Hank.
I need to get at the heart of this love story.
I need you to open a vein for me.
I've been rich and famous for so long now
that I don't know what it means to be a human being anymore.
You're real, Hank. You're a real man.
You're a man who loves a woman who doesn't love you back.
She loves me back. It's complicated.
I love my wife. She loves me. We're together. It's not complicated.
-You fuck other women. -That's different.
Do you urinate, Hank? Do you defecate?
There are elements that need to take flight.
-Ejaculate's one of them. -That's what masturbation is for.
Masturbation's for the poor, the silent unfuckables.
I walk down the street and women present themselves.
They want to extract my fluids. It's an honor and a privilege.
What sort of asshole would refuse such a kindness?
-What about your old lady? -Wives are different.
They don't rub themselves raw like we do. They're ladies.
-I'll be on my way. -No, please. Please stay.
I am flying to New York to play my music for the Broadway producers.
But you have no music.
Which is why we need to hammer the story out.
Once I know the story, the music will pour out of me
like a chunky hailstorm of shit after a night of Dutch curry.
I have got to drop the kids off at the pool before I soil my leathers.
These pants? $7,000. It's good to be the king.
Make yourself comfortable. There's pizza, cocaine, apple juice.
-Hello, sweetheart. -Hello, Hank.
Mrs. Fetch. Or perhaps I should say Mrs. Fetching.
-I've been wanting a word with you. -Regarding?
-An extramarital affair. My!
I know my husband fucks around. But we have an agreement.
Are you sure?
We've never discussed it, but I have needs too.
That's what I said. That's totally understandable.
Would you like to take care of those needs?
-Me? Why me? -'Cause.
This whole rock-and-roll idiot man-child shit gets old.
I need a real man from the real world.
Are you man enough to be that real, Hank?
I don't think so. You should speak to my estranged better half.
She would tell you that I fall more into the idiot man-child category.
Karen speaks the world of you.
-What does she say? -Enough about Karen.
Isn't it weird, because she works for you?
I'm paying Karen to remodel my home.
If she thinks she can expect more than a paycheck, fuck her.
I see you and your husband have the same twisted sense of entitlement.
I don't want to twist your arm,
but I'd like to take your hand here and shove it up my skirt.
You making a play on the boss's wife? You've got no fucking shame.
I'm just meat. Man meat. You know how that goes.
Gimme an excuse, pal. You won't even hear me coming.
I'll slice them fucking cheeks wide open.
They'll be flapping about like the sails on the "H.M.S. Bounty".
-What are you doing? -I'm getting ready for takeoff.
-You're sweating like a pig. -You know what a nervous flier I am.
-I've never flown with you. -Because I never fly, Hank!
What's supposed to keep this thing from falling into the ocean?
We're going to New York. There is no ocean.
-That's even worse! Certain death! -This shit is too weird. I'm out.
Hank!
-Hey! -Hey yourself.
-You can't stay away from me? -What are you doing here, Hank?
My presence was requested by the king of pop-tarts.
-Same. -He's in the market for a new muse?
-Who says I'm interested? -You're here, aren't you?
-Maybe I heard you're gonna be here. -Maybe you did. Did you?
Maybe. Maybe I just came with a friend.
Jesus Christ! No, I've got it. I'm fine.
-Frank! -Widow!
-Call me Trudy. -Okay.
-You had your dick in me mouth! -Who could forget?
He's got a nice rig on him. He could foam the runway with it.
-Good to know. -So you guys are BFFs now?
We've certainly got a lot in common, no?
Been riding the same disco stick and all.
Staying or going?
Staying or going, Hank?
-Favorite Radiohead album. -That shit's way too cool for me.
-Fuck off! -Here's one for you.
Side two, track three, "Houses of the Holy",
by a little band they like to call the Led Zeppelin.
-"No Quarter". -You're good.
You have no idea. I inherited a dead uncle's vinyl collection
and spent years in my childhood bedroom just listening to records.
Is that all?
I was a very good little catholic schoolgirl.
-Up to a point. -Are you trying turn me on?
Do have you given any further thought to what...
To what?
You said you could do something with me, bring my best work out of me.
You said that you could be the hammer that would help me to nail it.
Something tells me you're a little more trouble than you're worth.
No. I can wax on and wax off with the best of them, Mrs. Miyagi.
-Atticus would like a word with you. -Okay.
Not you, sweetheart.
I told you he wanted to get in your knickers.
-It's not as easy as it looks. -Yeah, don't I know it.
-Groovy bedroom, dude. -This is my very own erotic chapel.
That doesn't sound the slightest bit creepy.
-The answer is yes. -Sorry?
I would very much like to enter into a relationship with you,
one based solely on sexual pleasure and the transference of inspiration.
I'm sorry, Atticus, but the answer is no.
Tony said that you were like a miracle.
When you came into his life, he was blocked and bloated
and strung out on China white, and two days later,
he had a double album's worth of material.
I would very much like to receive the same benefits,
in exchange for which you will experience
first-class travel, pharmaceutical-grade narcotics,
the occasional trinket, and a solid 5.9 inches of rock-star penis.
That's from taint to tip. And it's the high end of average.
That does sound like the deal of a lifetime.
-But, it's not really that simple. -Why is it not that simple?
I'll buy you a German automobile, but that's it.
-Atticus, your wife is outside. -Yes, but I slipped her an Ambien.
-What? That's awful. -Is it? Why?
-'Cause you drugged your wife. -She loves drugs.
I'm not actually used to having to ask for sexual favors.
-Typically, they come to me. -I know. I do.
The thing is, when I throw in with a guy, I go all-in.
That sounds delightful.
I need to know what we're trying to accomplish here.
A rock opera.
-About... love. -Great. All right.
-Play me something. -You're fucking joking, right?
I have to audition for you?
Do you think we'll make it?
His favorite place to play was Madison Square Garden.
Atticus promised to get me in there.
I'm gonna spread his ashes all over the fucking place.
Is that sanitary?
-What are you so scared of? -It's just...
-So unnatural, this flying. -What's the worst that could happen?
We end up fucking crumbs in a jar? Big fucking deal.
All just dust in the wind, you silly twat.
You remind me of my ex-wife.
You still love her?
Moments like these, when I'm... staring death in the face,
I realize I have a lot of unresolved feelings for her.
-She is the mother of my child. -No, I'm sorry.
I feel that my life has deteriorated ever since we broke up.
But I've had some solid sexual experiences.
I've made some serious deposits in the wank bank.
-That's brilliant. -I'm... still in love with her.
Come here! Come here, little boy.
It's all right. I've been there.
-That's nice. -Yeah, it's nice.
There he is. There's your little winky.
Come on, Wee Willy. Stand up and shout for Trudy.
Let Trudy tug all your troubles away.
There you go!
You're a speedy one, ain't you? Good for you.
You got yours. Rest up, pumpkin.
I might ask you to put it in me bum later.
It's too small for the front but just right for the back.
Tony was way too big for that sort of buggering.
Come on.
Why?
That's what's missing in my life.
-Romance and longing. -What about Mr. Fetch?
You can't long for a cartoon character. He was a sweet boy,
all heart and balls and swagger, but that boy turned into a rock star,
and that rock star got everything he ever wanted and more.
Eventually, he just lost touch with reality.
I want to long for someone...
-The way you long for Karen. -Jeez. Okay.
Here we go. There you go, come on.
-You trying to skull-fuck the missus? -This is so not what it looks like.
-You're gonna enjoy this, aren't you? -You have no idea.
Land this fucking plane right fucking now!
-We're gonna crash, aren't we? -I want this pathetic slut off here.
This is my private airplane, and I make the rules!
Why are the landing gears not coming down?
What did she do?
She was inappropriate with me, with my wife on board, no less.
Is she alive?
She's fine. Go back to sleep.
He's pissed off. I wasn't interested in fucking him.
I knew it. I knew you were a fucking cow.
-I thought we were friends. -No, no more!
-Home-wrecking fucking cow! -I don't give a fuck if you buy it.
I'm gonna tell the rock community that you have vagitosis and warts.
That is mean!
If she goes, I go, and you can finish your fucking musical by yourself.
And your wife is looking for strange.
It's the 2nd time you've laid hands on me. The first time, I deserved it.
But I did not deserve that little bitch-slap.
You know what that calls for? Titty twister!
Jesus, Mary, Joseph! Here we come!
-Hank? Hold me! -Settle down, Runks.
If this is it, this is a good day to die.
Jesus!
Tony!
Thank you for standing up for me.
Because you're a groupie and you've slept with thousands of rocker dudes
doesn't mean you're not a woman of virtue.
And I don't believe for a second that you have vagitosis.
-Or warts. -If you say so.
Go ahead, Churchill. Get in there.
I'm too freaked out.
If you're gonna die, wouldn't you rather die with your dick in me bum?
If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die doing what I was born to do.
-Dude, really? -Could you pick a more obvious song?
Fuck you! It's an homage.
Cameron Crowe was right, and Elton John was a God.
Fuck! This is the moment we've been waiting for.
I'm shitting genius.
It's okay. She knows you love her.
Yeah, I suppose she does.
Come here!
I want to spend the last moments of my life listening to great music
and making out with the cute guy who just defended my honor.
That sounds like a reasonable request.
Fucking Christ!
I just had me an assgasm!
You're a bloody fucking sorcerer, you are.
"Terra ferma", motherfuckers.
There's bound to be a bunch of rock star DNA on that floor.
I don't care if I get the mother of all cold sores.
And we are taking the train back to Los Angeles.
-No, we're not. -Why can't you ever indulge me?
My friends, we did it. We have a song.
Jesus bloody Christ, woman, you are a a proper fucking muse.
Thank you.
And I'm deeply sorry about my childish behavior.
I tend to get that way when my manhood is assailed.
Fuck you.
-What the fuck? -Did you have a nice sleep?
-Did I take an Ambien? -Yeah. Don't you remember?
-No. -Yeah.
Did you drug me again, you fucking wanker?
Of course not. Guess what, though.
While you were sleeping, I wrote you a fucking song.
I'll play it to you back at the hotel.
I don't want to alarm you, but you seem to have misplaced your clothes.
-I won't be needing them for a while. -So is it naked nap time?
Think I'm gonna hang back here for a bit.
Really? 'Cause that's New York City out there,
and I know like seven pizzerias, all of them fantastic,
and we could hit every one, one bite here, one bite there...
-Sounds yummy. Maybe after. -After.
-I've been doing some thinking. -Some naked thinking.
Congratulations. You have made it to the next round.
CALIFORNICATION