01x04 - What Normal People Do

[bunniefuu]

(g*nf*re, explosions on TV)

(heavy metal music playing)

Jimmy! What's happening?!

What's happening?! What are you wearing?

It's your w*r costume.

It's not a costume!

And why are you wearing it?

They have a k*ller veterans' discount at the diner.

Seriously? How much?

Why'd you let me sleep?

Okay, there is an alarm on every phone.

So, literally everybody can be self-reliant on this.

You went to breakfast?

Yes.

You went to breakfast with Killian?

No, I didn't go to breakfast with Killian.

I went to breakfast with my book. Killian just happened to be sitting across from me, prattling on about the fourth grade.

Seventh grade.

Listen, Jimmy, I'm only gonna say this once.

You and me, we could end tomorrow, who knows, but in the meantime, if there is even a remote possibility of breakfast and you don't wake me up, I will never touch your d*ck again with any part of my body.

At least you brought me leftovers.

Oh, actually, those were for... Yeah, enjoy those.

He wore my uniform for a discount.

What about the kid?

You know how busy that place gets on weekends?

A soldier reunited with his fat little son?

Hella smart.

Oh, that reminds me.

Yours came to $18.23. We'll just call it $20.

I don't have any money.

Go and steal it from your mom's purse like a normal boy.

The last time I wore that uniform during active duty, we were doing house checks.

A kid, 16, maybe 17, heard us...

This is a really hard level.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I'll stop talking about my actual w*r experiences so you can play your w*r video game.

Thank you.

Jimmy.

Oh, come on, his stories are super-depressing.

I'll listen to your stories.

Thanks.

One day I found four stray dogs fighting over a dead baby...

Eject! Sorry, bud.

That's okay. Actually, I'm speaking at the dedication of a new veterans' memorial today if you guys want to come...?

Oh, my God!

The worst drive over here! (sighs)

What? Oh, I had my jaw wired shut, so I don't put anything bad in my mouth.

But putting bad stuff in your mouth is kind of your thing.

I know!

Thanks for driving me to work. Bye.

Bye, Jimmy.

Bye.

Could you take off my uniform now?

Oh, damn it! (groans)

w*r is hell.

♪ I'm gonna leave you anyway ♪
♪ I'm gonna leave you anyway ♪
♪ Gonna leave you anyway. ♪

The craftsman movement was a protest against the dehumanizing aspects of the Industrial Revolution.

Irony is building these shits was so expensive, couldn't no laborers even dream of living in one.

Do you just want to send me the Wikipedia link?

What am I doing here?!

I need media coverage on this bitch, bitch.

What are you thinking?

Specifically, I want to get the house featured in Curbed, Apartment Therapy, or Black Dwell.

What's Black Dwell?

It's like Dwell, but for black people. No... you're right.

Go for regular Dwell. I believe in you.

On-on purpose? You ain't break your jaw or nothing?

Nope.

Isn't your husband mad that you can't open your mouth?

Paul only likes hand jobs.

But you have a huge mouth!

Seriously.

You're like a crocodile.

When I played field hockey, they had to melt two mouth guards together.

This fool Paul know that if you lose weight, that ass gonna shrink, too?

Mm, Paul isn't an ass man.

Look, why would this prick buy the car if he ain't even appreciate the features?

My piano teacher growing up had a craftsman. I used to sit on that bench and pray, "God, please, let me have a house like this some day.

Also, let me figure out this piece of sh*t 'Maple Leaf Rag.'"

It's one of the hardest rags.

This house really means something to me, Gretch.

Yeah, buddy. It means you've worked hard and you made it.

No, it means I'm gonna get so laid. House like this, b*tches be delivering the p*ssy.

"Delivering the p*ssy"?

Oh, yeah.

I send out a quick group text. "Hey, girl?" or "What's crackin?" or "You want to come see my new architecturally significant house?" Then ding-dong, there it is.

Okay.

Piping fresh at your door in 30 minutes or less!

All right.

I get it, though. You know, dating is scary for women.

Like, what if for once they said, "No, you come to my house for it this time," and I didn't come?

Would you come?

Hell, no! Look at my house.

These girls are afraid that if they opened up a p*ssy dine-in only joint, no one would come. Their tables be empty, have to offer Groupons and sh*t. So they keep delivering it.

All right, and I'm out.

Great house, dum-dum. I'm gonna go back to the office and make some calls.

You do that, bitch.

Hey, and tell Black Dwell my subscription shows up crazy late every month!

Get a free month or some sh*t!

(crowd clapping)

Some people think Los Angeles is out of touch. Too obsessed with the entertainment industry to care about national issues.

But with this memorial to our nation's heroes, carved by our very own Rumer Willis, we will demonstrate just how wrong they are.

And now, one of Los Angeles' own brave servicemen, Edgar Quintero.

Thank you, Councilman Jim Burton.

The process of readjusting for a soldier is a difficult one.

In w*r, you exist on a higher plane of awareness.

But not in a fun, hippie way. You're aware of a window opening a block away, a pair of socks being hung on a laundry line right behind you. You're strung tight as a violin.

And when you come home, that's when sh*t gets real.

Thank for your service, soldier.

And now, L.A.'s very own Zig Zags!

Huh?

(Crowd cheering)

These pricks. They just trot us out there so they can feel better about themselves for a second before they go back to seeing us as disposable meat.

(Edgar snorts) Edgar Quintero.

6th Battalion, 8th lnfantry.

Tommy Boden.

I don't identify by my troop anymore.

It's just Tommy now.

Oh, let me help you.

I can do it!

(sighs) Sorry.

It's okay. (flicks lighter)

I guess I got to get used to life without a wing now.

Yeah, man. That's rough.

Hey, listen, some of my troopmates are going to get a bite. If you want, you should come; we'd love to hear your stories.

(Gretchen whoops)

Oh, come on!

That is 301 exactly, so you have to go down on me for five hours and one minute.

In a row? I'll die.

p*ssy. All right, three sessions, hour and a halfish each.

That's doable.

God, day drinking's the best.

Day drinking is the best. (laughs) Aren't we lucky we're both in professions where we can day drink?

Are you in a profession where you can day drink?

They all are if you want it bad enough.

What do you say we get one of those sessions out of the way right now?

That sounds good.

If we leave now, we can probably be at my place in 30 minutes or less.

Actually, let's go to my place.

You-you... Sorry, your place, do you have a place?

Do you think I just materialize out of the ether whenever you want me?

No...

That I exist in some suspended state of crypto-animation only made material when your balls tingle?

No.

Not literally. I'm used to seeing you at my house.

You are in rare form lately.

What?

Edgar and his army perks. Killian, whose name who you constantly forget. Me who didn't even merit breakfast.

Are you aware that you only want people in your life on your terms?

Yes.

Well, stop.

You're self-awareness on this means nothing, if you don't change it.

Okay, fine.

How do I start?

Well, first step, Jimmy... I need you to come eat me out in my apartment.

(Jimmy scoffs)

I'll do it.

See?! I am a wanted woman.

What do you say, buddy?

Well, I-I-I wouldn't want to cockblock this fella.

Yay!

But all right. Let's go.

Sit down, man.

(Gretchen chuckles) I didn't have a chance to tidy up. Cute, huh?

I'm not much of a cleaner.

You're not much of a human.

Oh, calm down.

I'll be right back.

(cat meows)

Whoa.

She never returned you? (whispering): Do you miss books?

(mewing)

(Jimmy gags, coughs)

You want to watch a little TV first?

Okay. Where's the TV?

I watch on my computer.

What do you mean, you watch on your computer?

You're so old. Here.

(Jimmy grunts)

Well, you're a festive masturbator.

Couldn't find an extension cord.

(loud Middle Eastern dance music begins playing)

(sighs): What is that?

(Groans): It's my neighbor Ladan, She has the worst taste in music.

(screaming): Turn it down, whore!

(sighs) sh*t.

I think I may have downloaded p*rn viruses again.

(sighs): Well, you ready to slice off a piece of this?

Not really.

Too bad.

Boys, this is Edgar. Edgar, this is Bone Bag and Martinez.

Bone Bag.

Nice to meet you.

Martinez.

Hey, man. How are you?

Good.

Have a seat.

Thank you.

And so, talk to us, tell us what it feels like being home.

Oh, well, you know, it's a hard adjustment, but I got some good friends who support me.

It's all you got, right?

Your brothers.

Oh, no, I mean civie friends.

I don't really hang with anyone from over there.

They remind you too much of all the sh*t that went down?

Nah, mostly, they're just kind of dicks.

So where'd you guys train? I was at Pendleton.

Yeah, yeah, same here.

Bitch, you went to Juilliard.

I've never heard of that base.

Here you go, guys.

Ah, yes.

My Pilates instructor is gonna be so pissed at me.

Yeah, at least I go back to boot camp tomorrow.

Why would you go back to boot camp?

Dude, there's a great one on Melrose.

So, Edgar, why don't you tell us that story you were telling at the dedication?

Oh, uh, okay, um... well, you know how when you get back and it's hard to stop seeing danger everywhere? It's like, I used to have these dreams about w*r...

Hold on, hold on.

Lots of violent stuff.

Wait, wait, wait. Okay.

(Edgar clears throat)

But... now they're the same. Only the dream is set here at home.

Does that ever happen to you guys?

No, I take an Ambien.

Excuse me, we are giant fans. Could we get your autograph?

Not now.

Not even here?

Absolutely.

Thanks. (girl sighs)

Who are you guys?

You didn't tell him?

I was just in character. I was assuming that he knew and he was just running with it.

I'm so sorry, man.

We're prepping for a movie.

Uh, it's this gritty indie flick, we play soldiers trying to adjust to life back home.

Seriously, you've never seen NCIS LA? I was nominated for an ALMA last year.

I'm a quarter Peruvian, I know I don't look it, but...

All right, I'm gonna go.

I am really sorry. We just want to make this as real... as possible. For you.

Yeah.

Okay, I'm in. All right, I get it.

Yeah, I get it.

It's great!

Now, if you could just sign this life-rights release thingy... it-it, but, it-it, it's typical lawyer bullshit, it's just to protect you... from suing us.

(people speaking loudly in foreign language)

(Jimmy sighs)

(Jimmy gasps)

So, you gonna stick around for a bit or?

Yeah, of course.

Oh... good... then. So... we could try to watch TV again.

Except it's not a TV, is it? It's a computer.

I watch television programs on it, so for my purposes, it is a TV.

Although TVs don't usually get viruses from downloading too many g*ng bang videos.

Consensual group sex is very different than a g*ng bang.

Is it?

All right, I get it.

My place isn't as nice as yours.

Your place isn't as nice as a cr*ck hovel.

Maybe it isn't perfectly OCD tidy, or decorated with stupid posters of dumb art, or pillows with g*dd*mn whales, or old-timey maps, but it's still my home.

My phone is covered in goo!

Join the club, phone!

If you want to go, just go.

Not unless you want me to go.

Fine. You know what?

I can feel you wanting me to leave like a scorching flame emanating from the other side of the bed, so I'm going to leave.

Don't invent that I want you to leave just as a smoke-screen for you wanting to leave.

Then I'll stay!

No!

I don't want to be the person who makes you stay somewhere you don't want to be.

If that's what you want.

(Jimmy clears his throat)

Fine, just walk away.

No, you are kicking me out!

Whatever you have to tell yourself.

So, I should go or...?

If that's what you want to do.

(Jimmy scoffs)

(Gretchen sighs)

What are you doing?

Nothing.

They're not home.

sh**t!

I need to talk to Gretchen. Can I ask you a question?

What do you think of my ass? I I don't know.

Well, let me see it.

It looks fine to me. I mean, it's just something you sit on.

It's not like the size of your ass defines you.

You've never been west of Doheny. What are you doing out here?

Waiting for someone.

Who?

My dealer. I called him, and then I was waiting and when I thought it was him pulling up, I suddenly thought maybe I didn't want heroin after all.

Do you want heroin?

No.

But mostly yes right now.

Do you want to come with me instead?

Yeah.

(engine starting)

(loud music plays in car)

Hi.

What you need, fool?

Thanks.

You bet.

Sign that, please. And don't forget to enjoy that pizza.

I am so excited for you.

And have a beautiful evening.

Wait a second.

Why the hell are you so happy?

With what? Like, my job?

Well, yeah.

No offense.

No, none taken.

It's like a really sweet gig for me. I just drive around, listening to TED Talks or my jams or whatever, and if I want to get high, let's roll. If I don't want to deliver a pizza, I don't.

I just pull over and eat that sh*t, and I tell 'em I got robbed again.

Put that up against your 401K, you know?

So, you don't want to have your own pizza restaurant?

Oh, my God, that would be awesome. You want to do that?

Let's do it.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Give me your number.

I was just... Never mind.

Oh, yeah, it's probably a lot of work. Huh? For now, just delivering happiness really works for my lifestyle, so... namaste.

Hold still. One more.

Oh.

Ah.

Oh. Ah! (Edgar mumbles)

Ah! Oh, yeah.

All right, so my point is, I just don't want to be some symbol of patriotism.

No kidding. It's depressing.

Whenever they bring one of those army guys out to sing the National Anthem, I'm like, "Ugh, no.

Where's Beyoncé?"

So, how do I get people to treat me normal?

Stop talking about it all the time! If you have a bad thought, just push it down. Or eat it, like I do.

Oh.

I mean, I don't see you as just some vet.

Well, how do you see me?

As a freeloading, kind of dumb Mexican guy that hangs out at Jimmy's.

How do you see me?

Um... as Gretchen's pretty friend who should learn to be happy with who she is.

Here you go.

Oh!

So, I didn't get a chance to tell you when you were here earlier today, but we have a m*llitary discount.

Aw, thanks, but... I'm good.

Psst. Um, yes, of course I'll have that discount, thank you.

Ow! Ow!

Are you okay?

Yes. The pain makes it even better.

Did you...?

Mm-hmm.

Hold on.

It's the best. Right?

Aw.

Uh-huh. Mm-hmm.

(knocking)

Hey. Where are you going?

To come see you.

I wanted to say, uh, I'm sorry.

For dissing my apartment?

No. That place is a sh*thole, but you're right. I can be a bit... set in my ways, and I should have invited you to breakfast.

Yes.

And I shouldn't have left your apartment.

Eh. Actually, I'm glad you left.

You are?

Turns out I'm like you. I want things on my own terms, too.

When I deliver the p*ssy, I can leave whenever I want.

Sorry. Deliver the p*ssy?

It sounds better when a black guy says it.

I am probably broken, Jimmy. I don't know.

My point is, I am done comparing this to what normal people do.

Good. Why would we even want to do what normal people do?

Yeah.

Normal people are terrible. So am I coming in, or are we...?

Yeah, come on.

It's nice that the city unveiled this statue... but... it isn't enough... because we hurt inside. Every day we ache for our fallen brothers.

We ache, yet nobody pays attention!

Well... you're going to pay attention now.

(Tommy yells, people scream)

Hey, that's the guy from NCIS LA!

Oh... No.