Submission (2017)

[bunniefuu]

[man's voice] Euston College was

first founded in the early 1800s

by Elijah Euston,

primarily to educate his six

sons and seven daughters.

Why he felt the need to educate them

at a college this isolated and inbred

isn't readily available.

As a novelist with one moderately

successful book under my belt,

I arrived at this well-paying

but lower-tier institution

with wife and child in tow,

the promise of health insurance

beckoning.

A short term gig, I thought,

fully expecting my second novel

to offer me a reprieve

and save me from obscurity.

That was a decade ago.

I had been touted

as an author to watch.

Little did I realize that that

christening would turn into my eulogy.

[man] Okay, so what did

everybody think?

What did anybody think?

[man's voice] Look at them.

They're shell-shocked.

They look like cartoon characters

hearing birdies tweet.

What engaged you?

Maybe it's a conspiracy.

Three stories about sex with animals,

and the term has just begun.

- Meg, why don't you jump in?

- I thought it was disgusting.

[man]

Positives first, please.

You can always find

something nice to say.

[man's voice] Unless you're a critic.

Or my first editor.

His spelling

wasn't offensive.

- Up yours.

- He wanted something positive.

That was the only positive

thing I had to say.

[students chattering]

Then again, maybe I should be

grateful for any student work

with a shred of vitality

and life,

- even if it is about bestiality.

- [groans]

- That's more than I seem to have at the moment.

- [groans]

- Is something wrong, Professor Swenson?

- [chattering stops]

Why do you ask?

You groaned.

Twice.

Did I?

Can you blame him?

That part where Danny did

what he did to that chicken

was just really, really gross.

I agree with Meg.

I thought the scene in the

kitchen came out of nowhere.

Seemed totally bogus.

Okay, so then

what would we do

to make it not seem

"totally bogus,"

as Carlos says?

Always quote the students,

if possible.

Makes them feel like

they're being taken seriously.

I'd change the boy's character

so that we know he's the kind of

person who'd do something like that.

He should be really pissed at the

waitress, so when he goes home...

- And here we go.

- [chattering continues]

The quote-unquote "suggestions"

that make a bad story worse.

When I first started teaching

I'd settle for nothing less

than the whole class

falling in love with me.

Now I just want to get through the

hour without major psychic damage.

Okay, all right. Okay, so then, does

everyone agree with these suggestions?

I think

they kinda suck.

All right, Angela.

Will you tell us why

you think they "kinda suck"?

I guess I just kind of liked

the way that it ended,

that it was so weird

and unexpected.

I mean, that's, like,

the whole point, isn't it,

that anyone can do

something like that?

This guy is getting home

from a really shitty date.

He goes home, opens the fridge,

sees the chicken and does it.

Right?

Guys are always surprising themselves

doing crazy sh*t like that,

even if they think they're not the kind

of guy who would do crazy sh*t like that.

Most guys would not

bone a chicken.

Yeah. I know

what most guys would do.

Okay, well, Angela does

bring up a good point.

She has a point.

Uh, Ryan doesn't do

what he does

because he's

a naturally violent person

or because his girlfriend bought

chicken and he hates chicken.

[students laughing]

It's the rejection that has caused him to

do "crazy sh*t," as Angela says. Right?

Now,

we've all been there.

Which is why we can see

that he is like us.

[bell tolls outside]

Okay. To be continued

next week.

Very good. Who's on the

hot seat next week?

Wh-Who is it?

Angela. Okay, great.

- So, this will be your first time, right?

- Actually...

So we promise

to go easy on you.

- Don't we?

- [students laughing]

- No?

- Actually, I'm not finished yet.

I, um, was hoping I could come talk to

you during your office hours tomorrow.

Yeah. Just remind me

when I have office hours.

Tomorrow morning.

Really?

I have morning office hours?

I'm more devoted

than I thought I was.

- [students laughing]

- That's great.

Then I will see you tomorrow morning

in my office during my office hours.

- [Carlos] Thank you.

- [Meg] Thank you, Professor.

All right, good luck.

Class dismissed. Get out.

Um, thanks.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Looking forward.

[exhales]

Hello?

- Nurse, I need some help.

- [whispers] sh*t!

- Sorry. I'm sorry.

- You scared me.

- I'm sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

- Oh, my God.

- Come here.

- What are you doing?

- Have a little quickie?

- You can't do that.

- Why not?

- Because I'm at work.

- So what? We'll say it's therapeutic.

- Stop. No.

There's a patient

right next door

who's been vomiting nonstop

since this morning.

Oh, great. My erection is gone.

Our jobs are safe.

He's the fifth kid

I've seen today.

Must be something

going around.

Well, let's go back home and get under

the covers where there are no germs.

We can't. We've got that meeting.

Remember?

sh*t. Which we're already late for.

Let me tell Arlene I'm leaving.

Later though. A thorough checkup.

I promise.

Okay.

[clears throat]

Good.

I have here a copy of the Euston

College policy on sexual harassment.

Every September one receives

this in one's mailbox,

along with changes to the health

plan and cafeteria hours.

And every September

one immediately tosses

it all into the trash.

[staff chuckling

uncomfortably]

I know I do, and it's my

unfortunate duty to write them.

[whispers]

Such an as*h*le.

- But I thought we might all...

- Shh.

spend a moment or two

going over it together.

I had a dream

about Ruby last night.

- Oh?

- Yeah.

We were driving, and I told her that

I'm her father and that I loved her

and that... that I only wanted

what was best for her.

What did she say?

She told me

that she forgave me,

that she was actually relieved

that I broke them up.

Wow.

What a wonderful dream.

I know.

And then this huge semi truck

came hurtling towards us.

[laughing]

She screamed

and I slammed on the brakes.

- And then I woke up.

- Oh, God. Maybe not such a wonderful dream.

Call her again.

No. I think she just deletes my messages

without even listening to them.

Surprise her. Drive down and

take her out for dinner.

I'm sure she could use

a good meal.

But someplace

within walking distance.

You don't want

to take any chances.

Love you.

Me you too.

[groans]

[phone rings]

[ringing]

[ringing continues]

[exhales] I'm still up.

What are you wearing?

[woman]

Excuse me?

It's Angela Argo.

I'm sorry.

I know you only gave out your

phone number for emergencies,

but I think we were

supposed to meet at 9:00.

Oh, sh*t...

I-I mean, yes, of course.

- I'll, uh... I'll be there in 15.

- Are you sure?

'Cause if you're busy

writing or something...

No, no.

The writing can wait.

Uh, I will see you in 15.

Okay, bye.

Hi.

- Hi.

- Hi. I'm so sorry I'm late.

- Oh, it's okay. Don't worry about it.

- [chuckles]

I was kinda liking it,

actually.

You know,

sitting here, hiding out.

When I was a kid, I'd sit

and read under the porch

when I was supposed

to be at school.

[chuckles]

Oh. Good.

- You're a reader, huh?

- Yeah.

Good.

- Come on in. I won't bite.

- [chuckles]

You're reading Jane Eyre?

You liking it?

Oh, yeah. Yeah.

I love it. It's cool.

I love that she's in this

mad rage the whole time.

Then she finally gets to marry the blind guy

who's just toasted his wife in the attic.

- It's wild.

- Yeah.

The trouble is, I'm reading it for Professor

Healy's class, Text Studies in Gender Warfare.

And it just kinda feels like everything

that we read is the same thing. You know?

Like the male patriarchy

sticking it to women.

And I understand that you can say that, but I

also think that not everything is the same.

True.

Please, have a seat.

Um, anyway, it is...

It's, like,

my favorite book.

- Good.

- Except for yours.

Phoenix Time is, like, my

favorite book in the universe.

Oh.

Well, I'm very flattered.

- Thanks. [chuckles]

- Yeah.

It saved my life,

actually.

How do you mean?

Well, my therapist gave it to me

after my father k*lled himself.

And I won't bore you with the details of

the whole story or anything, but, um,

it just really showed me

that people can get through

stuff like that.

I read it, like,

a million times.

And also, it's just

a really great book.

It's up there

with Bront and Stendhal.

- Stendhal?

- The Red and the Black?

It's another favorite

of mine.

- Really?

- Mm-hmm.

I'm actually working on a

postmodern retelling of that story.

It's my new novel.

- Oh, my God.

- [chuckles] Yeah.

That's amazing.

Huh.

- Can I ask you something?

- Sure.

Um, what happened

in your novel...

Did...

Did that really happen?

Well, I thought

we had, um, discussed in class

that we wouldn't ask writers

questions like that.

This isn't class.

[chuckles]

Um... yes.

That is

how my father died.

And my mother and I

watched it on television.

He was protesting

the Vietnam w*r.

It was a celebrity death

for about 15 minutes.

So...

[chuckles]

Wow.

[murmurs]

Yeah.

- I'm writing a novel too.

- Oh. Great.

Oh, God, not that I'm comparing

it to yours or anything.

I shouldn't even

call it that.

It's not a novel.

It's just pages.

It's, um... It's like chapters

in search of a novel.

[laughs]

That's good. Well put.

And what's it called,

your novel?

Eggs.

Eggs?

Eggs.

It's very evocative.

[laughs] Thanks.

And what is Eggs about?

Um, well,

actually, I'd...

I'd like to just show it

to you, if that's okay.

I brought, um,

the first chapter here.

I thought I could give

you the first chapter,

you could read it, let

me know what you think,

and we could go chapter

by chapter, or not.

It's about halfway done.

I started last summer.

Why don't I read

the first chapter,

and then maybe we can put it up and take

a look at it in next week's workshop.

- Whatever. You decide.

- Okay.

I just can't believe Theodore Swenson's

gonna read something I've written.

- [laughs]

- I should just take it back and start over

and throw it away,

probably.

I think...

my writing sucks.

No. That's what every

first-time writer thinks.

And, actually, quite a few

second-time writers.

- [nervous chuckle]

- So just take a deep breath.

Just breathe.

It's all right.

Right. Breathe.

Okay, um, I will.

And also I know there are, like,

four or five typos in there,

and I was gonna fix them,

but I didn't have time.

- But I know that...

- Don't worry about it.

Just...

- Just breathe.

- Yes. Yes. There you go.

And I'm really sorry before, when I

called you, if I interrupted something,

if you were writing

or something.

- Oh, no. Not at all. Not at all. Not at all.

- I'm sorry.

- Sorry I was late.

- Oh, don't worry about it. Thank you so much.

I really appreciate you reading my b...

Okay, bye.

Okay.

[Ted's voice]

The Black and the Black,

inspired, of course, by

Stendhal's The Red and the Black.

[phone buzzing]

Only now the character

of Julien Sorel

was a young sculptor with a Black

Panther dad and a social climbing mom,

a guy who uses everyone he meets in his

ferocious scramble up the art world ladder.

Race. Art. Ambition.

[phone buzzes]

Hey, buddy, it's Len, your editor.

Remember me?

So when am I gonna

see something?

You were supposed to send me a

draft three months ago. Call me!

Give my love to...

[Angela's voice]

Every night after dinner,

I went out

and sat with the eggs.

This was after my mother and I washed

the dishes and loaded the washer,

after my father dozed off

over his medical journals.

It was then that I slipped out the kitchen

door and crossed the chilly backyard,

dark and loamy with the yeasty smell

of leaves just beginning to change,

noisy with the rustle of them

turning colors in the dark.

For a moment I looked back

at the black frame of our house,

the whole place jumping and

vibrating with the dishwasher hum.

Then I entered the toolshed,

lit only

by the incubator bulbs,

silent but for the whirring hearts

inside the fertilized eggs.

This was my 11th-grade

biology project.

Officially, that is.

But underneath those charts,

those notebooks,

the racks of fertilized eggs,

my real project

was black magic...

casting spells for things

I shouldn't have wanted,

and longed for,

and finally got.

Like Mr. Reynaud,

my science teacher.

Angela.

Angela. Hi.

- Hi.

- I read your chapter.

Oh, sh*t.

You hated it.

I could tell by the way you

were looking at me in class.

Not that you were looking at me, but I

could feel it. You thought it sucked.

No.

Actually, the opposite.

I think

it's quite accomplished.

- Really?

- Yeah, I do. Yeah.

You're not just saying that because you're

afraid if you tell me what you really think,

I'm gonna go k*ll myself

in my dorm room?

[laughs] No. No, that's

not why I'm saying it.

I'm telling you the truth. I

really, really, really enjoyed it.

- Ted. Hi!

- Hey! How are you?

- I'm good.

- Good. Good.

We're on a break. I left some

papers in the office as usual.

- You know Angela.

- I do know Angela.

- It's nice to see you again.

- You too, Professor.

Um, we're just talking

about Angela's novel.

- Her novel?

- Yeah.

- Wow. That's impressive.

- Yeah.

- He's just being nice.

- [laughs] No.

- Okay. Well, please call me. Let's have lunch.

- Okay. I will, I will.

I found the typos.

I made corrections.

Just... keep writing.

- Do you want to discuss it in class?

- Oh, God, no. No.

You have to be very careful

to whom you show this now.

Don't listen to what anyone says.

I mean it.

Not even me.

Especially me.

Wow. Um...

Oh, my God,

that makes me so...

happy.

Just...

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Good job.

- [chuckles]

- Can I give you another couple of pages?

I'm sorry?

I understand if you, like, need

a break or something, but...

And it's not like reading a real

writer's work, anyway. I know that.

But if I... I-If you... I

understand if you don't want to.

No, it would be

my pleasure.

It just...

It means the world.

- Okay, bye.

- Bye.

[Angela's voice] "A little-known

fact about eggs," Mr. Reynaud said.

"During the equinox and solstice you

can actually balance one on its end."

I never tried to balance an egg

during the equinox or the solstice.

I don't believe in astrology.

But I knew that my life

was like that egg,

and the point it balanced on were the

few minutes I got to stay after class

and talk to Mr. Reynaud.

Hi.

Hi.

I'm sorry I'm late.

Oh, hi.

No, no, no. No problem.

- Hi. Hi.

- I had to go to Montpelier.

- They were holding this book for me.

- Oh.

- Dog Poems.

- Yes.

Oh, this is

one of my favorites.

One of my freshmen wrote a

poem about his dog dying.

I thought if I could show them something literary

about animals we'd have some place to start.

See what a good teacher

you are.

I mean, what you do

for your students.

They write reviews of us.

Look what we all do.

Can I get a white wine,

please? Thank you.

See, if it were my students, they would

be having sex with the dead dogs.

- Or at least writing about it.

- That's disgusting.

Yeah, but I can't say anything because I would

be repressing their creative self expression.

- So what do you say?

- [laughing]

I take the technical route.

- If you have a chicken in a suburban refrigerator...

- [laughing]

what's the texture like?

What's the temperature?

What does it feel like?

- Specificity? Specificity. Sure.

- Yeah.

- Yeah.

- You make it seem so lascivious.

That is a sexual harassment

lawsuit waiting to be filed.

Yeah, tell me about it.

Yeah, yeah.

[sighs] So how's

Angela Argo doing?

- Do we know what we'd like?

- Yes.

I'll have the usual.

Char-grilled steak sandwich, mashed

potatoes and a salad on the side.

- Yes.

- And I will have the very same thing.

- You got it.

- Thank you.

Thank you.

Why do you ask?

Cheers.

- Ask what?

- About Angela Argo.

I'm just curious

how her novel's going.

Oh. Well, I have to say

it's surprisingly good.

The stuff she wrote for me

was awful.

[laughs] Well...

And she wrote a... a...

a collection of poetry

for me that...

I may be a bit prudish, but I

found it terribly obscene.

Obscene?

Yikes.

Like how?

Dramatic monologues

and dialogues

about a phone sex worker,

Angela 911.

Really?

So Euston is now admitting

former phone sex workers?

I don't know.

But do you think

that she was actually...

I don't know.

I don't want to know.

- Hi. Thank you.

- Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Thank you.

It's very confusing, 'cause there

was also multiple references

to the phone sex worker's

sexually a*usive father.

One time we had a conference and

she intimated they were true.

I wonder if that's the reason

he k*lled himself.

- He k*lled himself?

- Yeah.

She never mentioned that.

The end of

spring semester,

I get a call from Betty

Hester at the library.

Mother Hubbard.

- That's mean.

- I'm s... I... I didn't say "old."

- In any event...

- All right.

she called to say

that Angela

wanted to donate

a volume of her poems

to the Euston library

as a gift.

- Mm-hmm.

- So Betty reads some of these.

And she is

totally freaked out.

So what did you say?

I told her, just catalog

the g*dd*mn things.

Nobody's ever gonna check

it out except Angela.

Mmm.

[Ted's voice] "I'm the

father of four daughters.

Three of them are sleeping. One

is awake and waiting for me.

I keep thinking of her tiny breasts,

my fingers between her legs."

- [woman] Ted?

- [gasps]

Can I help you

with something?

Oh, no, I'm good.

Thank you. Thanks.

- Hello.

- Oh.

- So good to see you, Ted.

- [chuckles] Likewise.

- Yeah, it's been ages.

- Yeah.

- [chuckles]

- [beeps]

- Too busy writing to read?

- [laughs] I wish.

Oh. My Dog Tulip.

- Mmm.

- Oh. I don't think I know this one.

Uh, Professor Moynahan

recommended it.

- Oh, well, it must be good then.

- I think so, yes.

- Okay, thanks.

- Ah-ah.

- What about that one?

- Oh! I forgot.

Oh, dear.

- I believe I know this author.

- Really?

- Yeah. Is she one of your students?

- Yeah, she is.

Uh-huh.

Well, how fortunate for her.

[chuckles]

Okay.

- Send my love to Sherrie.

- I will.

- And to Ruby.

- Mm-hmm.

- [Sherrie] We're late.

- [Ted] Ah, who cares?

Oh, I have missed

these dinners,

these gatherings.

Lost souls pretending that they're

not dying of boredom and angst

in some provincial outpost.

Behave, or I'll take you

home before dessert.

- Promise?

- Mmm.

Ugh. I hope she doesn't

serve jam trifle again.

Be nice.

And no English accents.

[English accent]

Yes, Mum.

It slipped out.

- Can I interest you in some Marmite?

- Marmite? I love Marmite.

Haven't had Marmite since

my wunderjahr at Oxford.

- [woman] Ah!

- Wunderjahr.

I am so glad you like it.

Most Americans don't.

- Oh! Sherrie!

- Hello.

How are you?

Hello. How are you?

- Hello.

- Hello.

- Hi!

- Lovely to see you.

Lovely to see you too.

Sir. How are you?

- Everyone.

- [clears throat]

Can I interest you in some

Marmite hors d'oeuvres?

I never say no

to Marmite.

Unless, of course,

you're serving it...

[English accent]

with steak and kidney pie.

[all laughing]

There he is.

Hello, Ted.

Splendid of you

to come.

- Something to wash that down with, old man?

- Yes, um...

Vodka, please, on the rocks.

A double.

Pellegrino, no ice, please.

Thank you.

We were just talking about the

rigors of the creative pursuit.

And now we can hear what our author in

residence has to say on the subject.

How is your work going

these days?

Well, sometimes fast,

sometimes slow.

You know... Ah.

The creative process

is very challenging.

But rewarding,

when it's good.

What are you working on? Or is talking

about one's writing verboten?

Only to those who have yet

to read my previous work.

It's on my nightstand. Scout's honor.

Third from the top.

- Sure.

- You're working on another novel?

Yes, um,

but, actually, I'd rather

extol the virtues of Marmite.

Don't let the sarcasm fool you.

He's very excited about it.

What's it about? Oh, have you told us?

Sorry if I've forgotten.

No, actually... No, I don't

think I did tell you.

I don't think I told anyone,

not even my nearest and dearest.

Writers

are a secretive bunch.

- As if we're all just dying to steal their ideas.

- We are.

What's the title? Throw us

a bread crumb. Come on.

Tease us.

We do love to be teased.

Eggs.

It's called Eggs.

What an interesting

title.

- Well, yeah.

- Hmm.

I thought it was

The Black and the Black.

- The wife's always the last to know, isn't she?

- [all chuckling]

- Well, I think they're both great titles.

- [Ted] Thank you.

Well, whatever it's called, I've got no doubt

it's gonna be another smashing success.

- [woman] Absolutely.

- Good for us.

- Yes! - Yes.

- Cheers!

[all]

Cheers!

[host] So how do Euston's best and

brightest strike you this year?

[man] Well, I don't suppose

it'll come as a shock to say

that each year's entering class seem to have

read less than last year's worst students.

The high schools are definitely

slacking off on their Dryden and Pope.

[man 2] You know, I sort of had an

interesting thing happen the other day.

It was in my

Intro to American Lit.

We're doing Poe.

So I thought I'd give them a little

bio, a little gossip really,

to make things more immediate,

give it a personal touch.

Well, that's what we've been reduced to...

fodder for the talk shows.

Poe and his

13-year-old child bride cousin

discussing their marital

arrangements with Ellen.

- [man groans]

- [laughing]

I'm sure

everyone would tune in.

[woman] They would.

They would though.

S-So anyway, as I'm talking

about Poe's marriage,

the entire class

gets quiet.

And when I asked them

what the matter was,

none of them

would answer.

Until one young woman

says,

"We've been studying

the work of a child molester?"

Oh, you've gotta

be kidding.

Poor Edgar Allan.

That's fascinating.

Have the rest of you

found this, um,

heightened consciousness

about those issues?

I never talk to a female student alone

in my office without the door wide open.

Oh?

And I keep a tape recorder in my

desk in case things get dicey.

Last week we were

doing Great Expectations,

and one of my students,

a big beefy jock,

asked me if Dickens meant there

to be a h*m* thing

between Pip

and Magwitch.

He was definitely

trying to bait me.

Maybe he was just looking for a

classically sanctioned way to come out.

I told him I didn't think Dickens meant

us to read a g*y subtext into the book

and we should consider

what the writer had intended.

Mmm.

The next day,

a female student told me

that the discussion had

made her feel very "unsafe."

The way she said

that word, "unsafe,"

gave me the chills.

It's a perfectly ordinary word

with a perfectly valid meaning.

So, Lauren, do these things

come up with you?

Of course they come up.

I bring them up.

I want the students to feel safe...

this word that Dave finds so chilling.

I want the students to be able to come to

me if they are experiencing harassment

or anything, really.

I really take them

very seriously.

- I have an idea.

- What's that, Ted?

I think that we have been

giving in without a fight,

that we have been knuckling under

to the most neurotic forces

of repression and censorship.

I think we need to help these

people get over their problems.

We should desensitize them

the way the Scientologists do.

Lock them in a room and shout dirty

words at them until they grow up.

sh*t, sh*t, sh*t!

f*ck, f*ck, f*ck!

c*cksucker!

m*therf*cker! as*h*le!

- f*ck, f*ck, f*ck.

- Okay...

- Throw in a couple of "c**ts" while you're at it.

- Oh!

Just good, old,

time-tested Anglo-Saxonisms.

And we will be doing

these people a favor.

Emotionally, spiritually,

educationally.

We'll be helping them grow up a lot

faster than if we just coddle them

and indulge

every whim and neurosis.

It just... Aaah!

- Ted's got Tourette's.

- [guests chuckling]

Late onset adult Tourette's.

It's a very rare

condition.

Oh, good, dessert.

I hope everyone has room

for a little jam trifle.

Yum.

- [laughing]

- "Late onset Tourette's"?

- That's what...? What was that?

- I had to say something.

My God, Ted,

what the hell got into you?

"Throw in

a couple of c**ts'"?

I kept expecting your head to swivel

around and for you to projectile vomit.

I don't know. I think it was the whole Poe

on Ellen thing that pushed me over the edge.

- Oh, you're driving.

- Yes, I'm driving.

[exhales] God, what a bunch

of spineless idiots.

[Sherrie laughing]

Imagine my father

seeing me wind up here.

He would've staged a hunger

strike to shut this place down.

- [sighs]

- Ugh.

- Magda's got a huge crush on you, you know.

- [laughs]

Nobody gets a crush on me

anymore.

I'm too old.

[Angela's voice]

"He says, Is this 859-6732?

Is this Angela 911?'

I say, What would you

like to do tonight?'

He says, I'm coming

up to you from behind.

My hand is over your mouth.

I'm bending you over a trash

can, making you open your legs.

You push your a*s

against me...'"

- Ted?

- Yeah.

- I'm going to bed.

- Okay. I'll be up in a bit.

[Carlos] "Just then, Eddie

really started to hate mirrors.

Eddie was glad there were no mirrors

on the bottom of the toilet bowls.

He would've had to see his

fat, pale, jellyfish face..."

[Angela's voice]

"He says, Is this Angela 911?'

I say, What would you

like to do tonight?'

He says,

Listen to what I'm doing.

I'm pulling up your skirt,

slapping your thighs just lightly.

You feel my hardness

straining to find release.

You unbutton my...'"

- Coach.

- Yeah?

That's it.

It's great.

Really.

- Very brave work, Carlos.

- Thank you.

Good.

What did everyone

think?

[bell tolling]

[Angela clears throat]

- [Carlos] Hey.

- [Angela] Hey.

Thanks

for what you said.

Oh, yeah, sure.

No sweat.

At least somebody

understands me.

That part where the guy goes on and

on about the dog, that was amazing.

- Doofy.

- Yes. Right.

Doofy.

You walkin'

across the quad?

I got, like, a half an hour before

Western Lit. We could grab a coffee.

I, uh... I can't.

I've, um...

I gotta see what he thought about my

chapter. I'm really nervous about it.

I think

he probably hated it.

- Well, good luck.

- Thanks.

- I'll see you around.

- All right.

Looks like

you made his day.

Well, I was

just telling the truth.

- His story wasn't bad.

- Yeah.

And thank you for not letting another

class devolve into civil w*r.

Well, don't thank me too fast.

Nothing's for free, you know.

Oh? What's it gonna cost me?

Time. Hard time.

This one...

really sucks.

- Great. I can't wait to read it.

- [both laugh]

Uh, it's from

the mother's perspective,

and it's about

when the parents first meet.

I know I've been giving you so much stuff,

so if it's too much, just let me know.

No, no, it's my pleasure.

Really. I, um...

Uh, just don't be upset with me if it takes

me, you know, a few days to read it.

- Yeah, yeah. No rush.

- Okay.

I'll just be

waiting by the phone.

[chuckles]

- All right.

- All right, thanks. I'll see ya.

All right.

See ya.

[Angela's voice] "It was a

morning like any other.

The alarm went off.

But when I tried to stand, the room

spun until it threw me onto the floor.

I was terrified. I called a

cab and went to the hospital.

The doctor looked in my eyes, my throat,

and said I had an ear infection.

Nothing to worry about.

But as soon as I stood up to leave, I

collapsed again on the examining room floor.

Nurses ran in.

I woke up as the young doctor

was taking my pulse."

[Sherrie]

Are you all right?

"Later. We're married now."

How the hell

could she have known that?

[Ted]

Hey, I read your chapter.

- Already? Wow.

- Yeah.

- I'm flattered.

- I'm just not so sure that you need it.

You know, the parents meeting,

how they meet and...

It just seems a little bit...

extraneous to me.

The reader needs to hear it

for what's coming later.

But how did you come up with the whole

thing, anyway? Um, I'm curious.

I mean,

the earache and the...

[sighs] the falling down

and the meeting in the hospital.

It happened to someone

I knew in high school.

- Why?

- Um...

You sound upset.

Is something wrong?

Oh, no. Oh, no.

Um, no.

But we'll talk about it

tomorrow. Okay.

[chuckles]

Okay. Bye-bye.

Who was that?

Magda.

You're leading her on,

you know.

She won't appreciate it

in the end.

- Will you help me with the groceries?

- Of course.

I would love to. Yes.

- [marching band playing march]

- [chattering]

Danny is, uh...

He's doing just wonderfully.

His narrative skills are

growing better by the day,

and I must say he has a

very vivid imagination.

Well, he's always loved creative writing.

[chuckles] Especially about animals.

- Yeah, yeah...

- [knocking]

[woman] Excuse me. Is...

Is this Professor Swenson?

- Yes.

- Our Angela is in your class.

Oh, yes, of course.

Yes.

Well, I'll let you go. I just wanted

to see, in general, how he was doing.

- And thank you for your inspiration.

- Okay. Thank you.

- Hi.

- Hi.

Amy.

I'm sorry we're late.

We left Jersey

at 5:30 this morning

so we didn't have to pay

for another night's motel.

[chuckles]

Sure. Okay.

That's a little more information

than the professor needs.

- Mark.

- Hi, Mark. How are you?

- Good. Good.

- Please have a seat.

Thank you.

So, how is Angela doing?

Uh, she told us

that we must come see you,

that you were the only teacher that would

have anything nice to say about her.

Well, I'm sure you'll find

that that is not true.

[laughs] No, she talks about your class

all the time. You're, like, her hero.

She thinks you're the greatest

writer that ever lived.

[laughs] Well, that's very flattering.

It's always good to have a fan.

Especially

such a talented one.

Oh, w-well, sh-she's

always wanted to be a writer.

You know, I remember when she started.

I bought her this computer.

And she used to print up

this little family newspaper.

Uh, stuff like how long she'd have to wait in

the morning to get into the bathroom, you know.

Hmm.

Is, um,

something the matter?

Oh, no, no. I-I-I...

She told... It's just...

I had no idea that her literary

aspirations went back to early childhood.

Oh, yeah, she's always had a way

with words, that one, you know.

[chuckles]

[Ted] That was your

stepfather, right?

Of course. Why?

Oh, no,

I was just, um...

I was curious because

the way he was talking,

he... he spoke as though he had

known you your whole life.

Since you were,

like, a baby.

Oh, well, he did.

Um, he lived next door to us

my whole life, him and his wife.

And then...

after my dad k*lled himself,

about a year after,

him and his wife split up

and he married my mom.

It was

a big neighborhood scandal.

Oh.

You know, I... I did lie

about something though.

Um, my dad...

wasn't crazy.

He was...

He was sick.

He had emphysema.

Oh.

I'm sorry.

Thanks.

I remember this, um, time

he took me grocery shopping,

and... he got so winded

he was wheezing and stuff.

He had to sit down.

And then I saw the checkout guy,

who I thought was really cute...

I saw him roll his eyes at the

girl that was bagging groceries.

And...

I was embarrassed.

And ever since

he k*lled himself,

I think about that...

every day,

and I feel so guilty.

Why was I so mad at him?

But you weren't.

You weren't mad at him.

You were angry

at the situation.

You were angry because

life is... cruel and unfair.

Perfectly normal.

- It was crooked.

- [chuckles] Thanks.

- Sorry. [chuckles]

- Yeah.

[no audible dialogue]

[Angela's voice]

"Mr. Reynaud looked closely.

His voice was calm, full of

compassion and tenderness

as he held the damaged egg

up to the light.

I started to cry.

They're all dead and it's

my fault,' I said to him.

They were supposed to hatch

ten days ago.

I knew something was wrong, but I didn't

know what to do, so I did nothing.

Don't blame yourself,'

he said,

soothing me

with his gentle touch.

Don't cry.'

He wiped my tears,

his fingers caressing my face,

our bodies melting together,

our lips, our tongues.

As his hand slipped under my jeans,

I made a sound so low in my throat

that even the unborn chicks

must have heard me."

[dial tone]

[beeping]

[line ringing]

- [rock music playing]

- [young man] Angela Argo here.

[Angela] Hey, give me that,

you jerk-off. Stop.

[sighs]

[exhales]

[bell tolling]

[sighs]

Hi.

You hated it,

didn't you?

That's why

you didn't call.

[scoffs] No.

Actually,

I quite admired it.

- Really?

- Yeah.

'Cause

it was like...

- What?

- I don't know.

It was weird, I guess, knowing

you were reading those pages.

They were really intimate, and I was

so nervous I didn't sleep all night.

Angela, I'm a professor

of literature.

[chuckles] I mean, a little

eroticism doesn't frighten me.

Good.

'Cause... now I can breathe.

[chuckles]

I was just, you know...

I was imagining you getting home and

getting ready for bed or eating dinner

and knowing you were reading those pages and

wondering if you were like, you know...

You know.

Anyway, I'm just really glad you liked it.

That's great.

Um, sorry to bother you

without an appointment.

When do I get more?

Um, well, at this point,

probably never.

Yeah, well,

writers block

gets the best of us

sometimes, doesn't it?

No, it's not that.

My hard drive just crashed, so

I've gotta get a new computer.

Oh. Sorry to hear that.

Yeah.

Hey, listen.

Maybe this is

a stupid idea, um...

And you can absolutely say no.

In fact, I expect you to say no.

But I just really

need a ride to Burlington.

My stepdad said I could buy a new

computer on his credit card.

I want to buy it in person, because last time

I bought it online and it was defective,

and then returning it

was a total nightmare.

Yeah, um, look,

it's not impossible.

But, um, I...

[stammering]

When I'm not here,

I'm writing, so...

I don't know that it will...

Right. I'm sorry.

Yeah.

Um...

I figured that was why

you'd say no.

Well, can't your boyfriend

drive you, or...

I don't have

a boyfriend.

Ah.

Well, I thought you...

Yeah.

It's no big deal. I'll just put it

on the shelf for a little while.

- Probably not such a bad idea anyway.

- [chuckles]

- Thanks again.

- All right.

What about tomorrow

at 10:00?

Really?

Yeah. Yeah.

Oh, my God. Thank you so much.

Thank you.

That would be great.

Um, yeah.

I live in Hughes. Do you wanna

pick me up outside of my dorm?

- Yeah, perfect. We'll just go...

- Great.

We'll go, we'll do it quickly,

and then, uh, it'll be done.

- Okay?

- Perfect.

- All right, great.

- Thank you so much.

- See ya.

- We'll see you tomorrow.

So have you decided what your

major's going to be yet, or...

Well, I have till

the end of the year to declare,

but I was thinking

creative writing.

Mm-hmm.

Unless you think I should

major in something else.

No, no. I think... No, I

think it's a great idea.

No, I-I, um...

I just didn't want to assume that

that was what you wanted to do.

[snickers] Good.

Because writing is really the

only thing that interests me.

It's all I care about,

really.

If I wake up that day and I'm

writing, then I'm in a good mood.

I'm happy.

I know what you mean.

- It's better than anything.

- Yeah.

It's better than sex.

Well... [laughs]

- Maybe not that.

- Maybe not that, yeah, but...

[man]

But nevermore

[backup singers]

No, no, no, no, no, no

[man] Nevermore

[backup singers]

No, no, no, no, no, no

No, no. I don't want

external speakers.

I just need to make sure it has the

new Intel core i5 and i7 processors.

- Absolutely.

- Okay.

And I don't want

an in-store service plan

because it never breaks

before that expires anyway.

[laughs] Your daughter

is very charming.

That was easy. Everything

should be that easy.

- [chuckles]

- Thank you.

It's just one writer

helping another writer.

Thanks.

- What...

- No. Sorry. Go ahead.

No, you...

Go ahead. Choose.

- Yeah?

- Yeah.

Okay.

- [lush mid-tempo pop playing]

- [clears throat]

[woman singing]

The whole thing is over

[singing continues]

- All righty.

- [song stops playing]

All right.

Um, you wouldn't be willing,

by any chance,

to help me carry this stuff

up to my room, would you?

Or help set it up?

I understand if you have to get going.

I've taken up enough of your day already.

Actually, I don't think I'd be

much help setting up a computer.

My wife

had to set mine up.

- [laughs]

- I'm, like, totally useless.

- So...

- Well, that's cool.

- I can probably do it.

- Okay.

You can just be

moral support.

[door closes]

Did you do

these drawings?

Um, yeah.

Mostly.

- Very good.

- Thanks. I've been doing it forever.

I just kind of pass the time

that way. You know?

Impressive.

- I think we got it!

- Oh!

Putting together my last

computer was, like, total hell.

You must be

my good luck charm.

[laughs]

Well, I'm glad to hear it.

Hey, um, let me print out

the new pages for you.

[printer whirring]

Son of a b*tch.

sh*t. sh*t!

- Uh, the paper's jammed.

- Yeah, no sh*t.

Sorry. I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

I just... I really wanted to give you

these pages before you went a-and...

Don't worry about it.

You know what?

Just e-mail them to me,

'cause I really should go.

Sometimes it jams. Let me just

try this one other thing. Okay?

[printer whirring]

sh*t! sh*t.

- Okay, all right...

- No, it's...

Relax, relax.

It's okay. It's not...

- [sighs] It's so...

- It's okay. It's okay.

Hey.

It's all right.

Don't...

[both moan]

- [loud pop]

- Ow!

- Oh, my God! What was that?

- I don't know.

- Just heard that through my skull.

- [laughing]

Sorry.

I think I broke a tooth.

- Are you okay?

- I don't know. Yeah.

[groans]

- I think I lost a filling or something.

- [laughs]

That's not all you lost.

[snickering]

- Oh, yes. I'm sorry.

- Don't worry about it.

Hey, um, let's...

let's try this again.

- Okay, well, I'm not so sure I'm...

- No, no, no, no.

- What?

- No, not that.

- I was gonna say my...

- Oh!

- pages, you know.

- Oh, ok... okay.

Um, hey, we never

locked your door.

- [printer whirring]

- I locked it when we came in.

- Oh.

- Whoa, I think we got it.

- [clicking, whirring]

- Um...

Um, do you have a, um...

- Yeah, there's a, uh...

- Uh, what do you call it? Yeah.

Okay.

- [exhales]

- Bingo!

- We shook it loose.

- All right.

We did

some kind of voodoo.

Yeah.

I'm very sorry about...

Here.

Oh.

The new chapter.

Ah, fantastic.

Okay, I'll read it

as soon as I can.

Great.

Look, we shouldn't really

tell anybody about this. Right?

I mean, it'll cause

a terrible scandal and...

Right, like I'm

gonna tell anyone.

Like I want to get us both

kicked out of Euston.

- Don't worry. This didn't happen.

- Yeah, all right. Okay.

- At least not yet.

- Okay. All right.

- Okay.

- [clears throat]

All right.

Um, okay.

Okay, um...

- Ah, Claris. Hi.

- Hi, Professor Swenson.

- How are you?

- Good. How are you?

- Good, good, good. I'll see you in class.

- Yeah.

- See you there.

- All right. Okay.

- [door closes]

- Oh, goody! You're home.

I can't decide.

What would you like?

[Ted] Uh, I don't know.

That's a tough one.

- Maybe roll back the clock. How 'bout that?

- [chuckles]

- For dinner, silly.

- [chuckles]

Uh, how about

some oatmeal?

I broke that tooth today.

- Oh, no.

- Yeah.

How'd you do that?

- On an olive.

- An olive?

At Euston Commons?

Sounds exotic.

No, I... I...

I had this craving, so I went

over to the Minit Mart quickly,

and I, um...

I bought a whole jar and I-I ate

practically the whole thing.

You know how you take... you put,

like, the pits inside of your mouth,

and then I...

which I do...

and then I bit on it,

and... [crunching sound]

- Stupid.

- Maybe you're pregnant.

What? What?

Weird food cravings.

For a second you looked scared

you might actually be pregnant.

No, it's not funny.

I really, um...

When you're 20-something, you

think everything is replaceable.

But when you're 49,

you know it isn't.

- Aw. I'm sorry.

- It's okay.

You should've come to the clinic.

We could've fixed you up.

Does it hurt?

Only when I do this.

Ow.

Don't do that.

[quietly] Stupid.

I'm going to make you

some very soft,

very delicious

scrambled eggs with cheese.

Oh, good. Okay.

Oh. Ow.

[chuckles]

- That did not hurt.

- No, no. Not really.

Don't you want

something else, or...?

No. I'm all right.

[eggs cracking]

[bowl clanging]

[Angela's voice] "He pressed

until the egg cracked,

its slimy yoke slipping over

our intertwined fingers.

My fingers slid

against his fingers

until our hands were joined

and I no longer knew

which fingers were whose.

He took my hand,

still slippery from the egg,

and wrapped it

around his p*nis.

His spit tasted

like an old person's food.

Liver and onions, fried fish.

His stomach pillowed into me.

[gasps]

Maybe he knew

what I was thinking,

because he got rougher as he

pushed himself hard inside me.

[gasps, panting]

I began to cry because it hurt,

but at the same time,

I felt happy that he wanted me,

that I alone had the power to

make a grown man risk everything

to do what we were doing

in the warm light of the shed,

with the trays of eggs

humming around us."

[sighs]

[girl] I know dudes

who'd do that, okay?

I'm just not convinced

this dude would do that.

It doesn't matter whether or not

someone would do something like that.

What matters is whether Meg's made us

believe that the guy in her story did it.

- So...

- Hey, Meg.

The guy in your story... What

does he do for a living?

I don't know. I mean, wait.

He's a contractor.

Is that in the story?

It was,

and then I took it out.

It's not in the story because

the guy's not in the story.

We don't believe it

for a f*cking second.

We don't believe one thing he

says or anything that he does,

certainly not that he takes a

cat up to the roof to k*ll it.

A guy like that is more likely to be nicer

to the cat than he is to the woman.

It's like you didn't

even investigate it.

You were too busy thinking up some

vicious thing for this as*h*le to do

than actually

write a story.

Well,

it appears that Angela did not

care for Meg's writing this week.

I'm sorry. It's unfair Angela gets to sh**t

her mouth off about everybody else's stuff,

and we never talk

about her work.

She should have to play

by the same rules we do.

However, I did make it clear at the beginning

of the course that no one is obligated...

Fine. Whatever.

I'll bring my stuff into class.

I'm not scared.

I just don't see

the point.

But if it'll make you happy,

I'll do it next week.

Okay. Great. Thank you,

Angela, for volunteering

and for, um, extricating us

from this little snafu.

Uh-huh.

Snafu.

- Beautiful.

- Mmm. It's one of my favorites.

- [bell tolling]

- All right, there we are. So we'll see you next week.

Angela, would you stay

so that we could talk about

what you would indeed

like to read next week?

I'm sorry for going off

like that.

You know, one minute

I'm minding my business,

and the next

I'm ripping Meg's heart out.

Yeah, no, it's okay. I mean,

you were right. [chuckling]

[chuckles] It's just

the mood I'm in.

I was pissed

before I came in here.

Why is that?

Because

you didn't call.

About the pages.

Oh, yeah. No. I know. I'm sorry.

I didn't get the chance...

It's just those were really

extreme scenes, you know.

And I needed to know what you thought.

It was driving me crazy.

And here I am defending male

behavior against Meg's bullshit,

but here you are exhibiting the

worst type of male behavior.

And honestly I'd rather you throw

my cat off the roof and k*ll it

than have you read these really tough and

hard-to-write pages and not even call.

I'm sorry.

It was thoughtless.

Apology accepted.

Good.

So then next week,

I think you should just...

Let's just start

with the first chapter.

All right?

Um, yeah. Sure.

You know, I don't know

if I'll get much out of it.

- No offense, but...

- [chuckles]

You know, I just really need to get my

stuff out in the world to someone that...

someone that

doesn't know me,

and they can tell me if I suck

or if I should keep going

or if I should just burn it all and

rip it up and never write again.

[laughing] I don't think

that you have to do that.

Was that Blue Angel?

Did you watch Blue Angel?

- Yeah.

- I don't think I've ever seen it.

Marlene Dietrich's great

though, right?

Pretty boring actually.

It was hard to get through.

But I've gotta return it

or else I might as well buy it.

- Okay.

- Hey, uh...

What if the next time you talk

to your editor in New York,

you sort of mention

my novel to him?

You know?

Have him just read a chapter,

a couple of pages even,

and then he'll tell you

and you can tell me.

Um...

let me think about it.

- Thanks. I really appreciate it.

- No problem.

- See you.

- Okay. See you later.

Bye.

[engine idling]

[engine off]

[chattering]

[laughing]

So, let's talk

about what we liked

before we tear it down,

as usual.

[laughing]

I thought some

of the egg stuff was okay.

Oh, come on, Carlos. It was

all so obvious and symbolic.

Thank you. I mean, this egg sh*t.

Really? It's clich.

I didn't believe

the voice.

I mean, teenage girls

don't think like that.

There were no teenage

expressions in it.

It was like...

It was totally unrealistic.

[Danny] And the narrator's so...

I don't know.

I just kept waiting to learn

something about her as a character.

[Claris] I feel you.

Okay, but it is the first part

of the first chapter of a novel.

A novel's got to have something

to keep you reading.

We're not staying with this story

about some chick hatching eggs

and having fantasies

about her teacher.

Yeah. This is, like, the worst thing

we've read in class all year.

You know,

sometimes... sometimes,

there comes along something

that is new

and fresh and original.

It's unlike anything

that's ever been written before.

I'm not saying what Angela

has written is Ulysses,

but what I am saying is what she

has written is very original.

And the rest of you

need to see that.

Because if there's one thing that I

want you to take away from this class,

it's the ability...

it's the generosity

to see the real deal.

And that's the real deal.

It should be painfully obvious

to all of you

that what Angela has written

is more sophisticated,

more profound,

more nuanced,

and more compelling

than anything

any one of you has written

for this entire semester.

And I'm shocked

that you don't see it.

[chuckles]

Hello. Hi. It's Ted Swenson

calling for Len Currie.

- [woman] One minute, Mr. Swenson.

- Mm-hmm.

Ted. Finally.

- How are you, man?

- Hey, how are you?

Jesus, you're hard

to get ahold of.

- You coming to New York?

- Yes.

In fact,

that's why I'm calling.

I want to talk to you about a couple

of things. Maybe the week after next?

The week

of Thanksgiving?

Uh... No.

Actually, I meant...

That Friday is perfect.

It's actually the only slot I've got

free on my schedule for the next year.

Not really, but just about.

And by lunchtime I'll be climbing the

walls to get away from the wife and kids.

- Don't tell anyone I said that.

- [chuckles]

Norma's. Twenty-second and Park

Avenue South. See you at 1:00.

Can't wait to finally

read what you've got.

[line clicks]

[bells ringing]

Hello?

Oh, my God. Ted.

She's here!

- Hello?

- Oh!

I did not expect you

so early.

Oh, I thought you'd hit

all that traffic.

- It wasn't too bad actually.

- Oh. Good.

- Smells good, Mom.

- Hey!

- Hey. How are you?

- Hi.

She's back

and better than ever.

You look great.

- You look great.

- Thanks, Dad.

- You don't need to say it a third time.

- Okay. All right.

I'm taking this course

on the abnormal personality.

- It's for my psych major.

- Mmm. That sounds interesting.

Yeah, a lot of these studies say that

first-degree relatives of affected individuals

have a higher risk of

developing symptoms themselves.

- Makes you think about Grandpa.

- It makes perfect sense.

This is absolutely

delicious, honey.

Although a child of a bipolar has

less than a 15-percent chance

of developing it himself.

Well, there you go.

Fifteen percent. Spared.

Unless there are other

members of the family

who suffer from some kind

of mood disorder too.

I remember your mother

was depressed a lot as well.

Honey, would it be all right if we didn't

talk about my inherited mental illness

during Thanksgiving dinner?

It's pretty fascinating

though.

Bipolar is rampant.

My father wasn't bipolar.

He was angry about

the state of our country.

I just think his underlying emotional

state must have had a big effect on you,

and I'm surprised you

never went into therapy.

Why? I'm a writer.

To me, it's all grist for the

emotional mill. Why shrink it away?

He set himself on fire.

Yes, I know that.

I know.

But I don't think political

outrage is inherited, so...

- I wouldn't worry.

- [Sherrie] Okay.

Let's change the subject.

[chuckling]

How's your book coming?

[horn honking]

So how's the novel

coming?

Well, it's coming.

You know, it's coming.

It's... It's slow.

It's coming slowly, but actually I didn't

want to talk to you about my novel.

I wanted to talk to you

about, uh, a novel

that one of my students

is writing.

- God help us.

- No, no, no.

Len, listen.

It's about a high school girl who

has an affair with her teacher.

Here, let me...

I want to give it to you.

- You're f*cking her.

- What?

- No, I'm not...

- But you want to.

No, I don't want to...

It's not about sex.

It's about that this kid

is really, really talented.

I believe you. I re...

I'm sure she's very good.

But I don't have time

to look at some chick novel

about a girl with the hots

for her high school teacher.

- Why don't you just look at the first few pages?

- Ted.

- First few pages.

- Ted.

- First few pages.

- Ted.

Do yourself a favor.

Take the manuscript back.

Tell her you'll show it to me

if she lets you f*ck her.

Now, what about

your book?

Let's get serious here.

I've had a thought.

Have you ever considered

a memoir?

Len.

You don't need me to tell you

that what's selling these days

has the juicy gleam,

the bloody smell of truth.

Yes, I know.

How many people you think

read a novel?

- I...

- About 5,000.

Out of the 5,000 people that read

your novel, 2,000 of them are dead,

and the other three...

they've forgotten.

Better to be a hot, new memoirist than

a mid-list, middle-aged novelist.

I'm not doing this

as your publisher.

I'm doing this

as your friend.

Well, I appreciate that.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Now, look.

I don't know you that well,

but the best thing...

the really good thing

would be

if there was something that had been

going on since your father's death.

- Some ongoing problem.

- A problem? Like what?

What are you...

Drinking, drugs,

spousal abuse.

- Oh!

- Sex addiction.

Compulsively f*cking

your students.

That would be great.

Len!

- Something that's directly traceable...

- Shh!

to your dysfunctional

childhood.

And something that you've, you

know, "recovered from," of course.

Yeah.

Well.

I'll think about it.

What are you doing,

sitting in the dark?

I don't know.

Just thinking.

Everything okay?

Is Ruby all right?

Is she pissed that I went?

No. No, not at all.

I told you, she's fine.

What did Len

have to say?

Oh, well, you know,

his kid's got ADD,

and they're medicating him

into a stupor, and, you know.

I mean about the chapters

that you gave him.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, no. He's, um...

You know, he's excited.

You know, but it's probably gonna take him

a little while to read it, he said, so...

Okay.

Everyone would love

to see you finish Eggs.

Mm-hmm.

Oh, by the way,

one of your students called.

She sounded upset.

- Did she leave her name?

- No.

She said she wanted

to talk about her novel.

She thought

it was your cell.

Oh, her novel.

Oh, great.

Her novel. [scoffs]

She's back in New Jersey.

She left her number.

She said to call her

anytime.

Unbelievable.

These students, you know...

You say don't call me unless it's

a life-threatening emergency,

and, of course, everything to them

is a life-threatening emergency.

You know, you're at their beck and call.

It's just...

- I'm sure it's nothing that can't wait until Monday.

- Okay.

I'm going up.

All right.

I'll see you up in a minute.

Morning.

Happy Thanksgiving.

I hate it when you

look at me like that.

Like what?

Like dinner.

I'm sorry. I didn't think I was

looking at you like dinner.

I don't usually think about

dinner until I've had lunch.

So, I'm guessing

it didn't go very well.

Otherwise,

you would've called.

No, I... I, uh... I talked to

him about it, and he said...

You know, he's a very busy man.

He said he'll read it.

Of course, he could be so busy that he just

pretends to read it and then sends it back.

But, unfortunately,

we have no control over that.

So when can I

call him?

You're welcome.

- How was your Thanksgiving?

- Grisly.

So when can I call

and see if he's read it?

I don't think

he would like that.

Um, that might make him

want to not read it.

You didn't give it to him,

did you?

Okay, look.

I didn't leave it

with Len.

It's not that I didn't try.

I did.

It's just that he's not

reading any new novels now.

And you shouldn't

take it personally.

It's not... You know, it's not like

he read it and he didn't like it.

It's just... That's all.

I mean, come on.

You're young. You haven't

even finished the novel yet.

You and I both know

that this is all... bullshit.

None of it matters.

When am I going to be published?

My reputation and my fame.

It's bullshit!

The only thing that matters

is the work.

That's all. The work.

f*ck you.

No. f*ck you.

I went out

of my f*cking way for you.

I went down to Manhattan

to see my editor,

so he could take me out for lunch

so he could treat me like sh*t,

so he could tell me that I had to write

a memoir about my early years...

everything that I covered

already in Phoenix Time.

But now I'm supposed to

write it in a different way,

and it's supposed to be

the actual truth.

f*ck me. f*ck you.

- What did you tell him?

- I told him no.

I'm a novelist,

plain and simple.

I still have

some standards.

It's easy for you

to have standards,

with your nice, fat teaching job

and your tenure forever and ever.

You'll always have time to

write, even if you don't.

Whereas if I end up

working at a drugstore,

which with my parents' connections

is a best-case scenario,

I'll never have the time, while you sit

here making your little moral distinctions

about not selling out

your fabulous talent.

I can't believe

you let this happen.

- I can't believe you didn't fight harder for me.

- Angela, what...

The only reason why

I let you f*ck me

was so you could get my novel to someone

who could actually do something.

I did not think that

that's what that was about.

I did not think this was

about you letting me f*ck you.

I thought that was something

that we both wanted.

Well, now you know.

[door opens]

[door slams]

[alarm beeping]

[alarm stops]

[moans]

[ringtone chiming]

- Hello?

- Professor Swenson?

It's Hillary from

Dr. Bentham's office.

Yes?

Dr. Bentham would like to see you as soon

as you arrive this morning, if possible.

Um, yeah, I should be there

in about ten, 15 minutes.

Will it take long? Because I

have office hours this morning.

I'll tell him

you'll be here shortly.

Thank you so much.

Okay.

[clock ticking]

[footsteps approaching]

Ted.

- Hi.

- [clears throat] Please, sit.

Thank you for coming in

on such short notice.

Oh, yeah. Well, office hours this

early aren't very popular, so...

Hmm.

Ted, maybe we could dispense

with the small talk,

if that's all right,

and get directly

to the point.

[footsteps on tape]

[Angela] So I'm guessing

it didn't go very well.

Otherwise,

you would have called.

[Ted] No, I-I, uh... I talked

to him about it, and he said...

You know, he's a very busy man.

He said he'll read it.

Of course he could be so busy that he just

pretends to read it and then sends it back,

but, unfortunately,

we have no control over that.

[Angela] I can't believe

you let this happen.

I can't believe you didn't

fight harder for me.

[Ted] Angela, what...

[Angela] The only reason why

I let you f*ck me

was so you could get my novel to someone

who could actually do something.

[Ted] I did not think this was

about you letting me f*ck you.

I thought that was something

that we both wanted.

Francis, look.

I did not make this girl

sleep with me

in exchange

for pimping out her novel.

[sighs]

Ted, maybe it's premature

to warn you

that everything you say

can be used against you, but...

Are you arresting me?

Is that what's happening?

Are you reading me my Miranda rights?

Are the cops here?

Of course not.

But the evidence against you,

it does look pretty damning.

Meaning what?

The student is charging you

with sexual harassment.

Oh.

She's threatening

to sue the school.

And given what she's

presented us with,

I really think

you might consider,

for everybody's sake,

resigning.

I wouldn't ask you to do it

just for the college, old chap.

I'd say go ahead, fight,

if that's what you want.

But you do have

a family to consider

and a professional

reputation.

And my so-called

options?

Well, I suppose we'd have to form

a committee to look into this.

Gather testimony.

Hold a hearing, if necessary.

And I assume it would be.

It's all spelled out in the faculty

handbook under sexual harassment.

This is not

sexual harassment.

Actually, Ted, this sounds like the

textbook case of sexual harassment.

Yeah, but that's

not what it is.

Incidentally, Ms. Argo

has asked me to ask you

to not contact her until after

this matter is settled.

So, what do you say, Ted?

[door slams]

Want to go out

to dinner?

Are we celebrating

something?

Uh, a day

without disaster.

Oh. That's worth

celebrating.

[chuckles]

Emilio's?

You might want to wait for a month

without disasters for that.

Well, there won't be any of those

anytime soon, so... let's go tonight.

- All right.

- All right.

- Let me just go take a shower.

- Okay.

Ted. What are you...

[Ted's voice]

In my dread and confusion,

I reverted

to the conventional wisdom

that if you're going to deliver

shattering information to a loved one,

it's best to do it in a crowded

place that will preempt tears,

recriminations,

m*rder attempts, and so forth.

I guess I should have known

that at 7:00 on a weekday night,

the place would be empty.

I'll have the venison.

- And I'll have the, um, salmon.

- Oh.

Uh, even though

it's probably exhausted

after swimming

all the way to Vermont.

[laughs]

We made it

through Thanksgiving.

- Not too bad.

- Not too bad.

- Not too bad.

- I barely remember it.

[laughing]

What do you think?

Think she'll come home

for Christmas?

Yeah, I hope so. Yeah.

- I'm so glad we're in this together.

- Me too.

So if I...

- If I tell you something...

- Mm-hmm.

will you promise not to be

mad at me, no matter what?

I recognize a lose-lose deal

when I hear one.

No, I mean it.

Have you been sleeping

with a student?

[gasps]

Oh, my God.

I was kidding.

I didn't really...

I didn't sleep with her.

My tooth broke.

Oh, okay. So you were going to sleep

with her, except your tooth broke?

Well... Something like that.

Not really.

- I mean...

- What did she do? Punch you in the face?

- [chuckles]

- [chuckles]

No.

Is she the one who called when

you were supposedly in New York?

Um, I think so.

And do you think that's

who you went to see

when you told us you were

going to see your editor?

No, I...

- Look at me, g*dd*mn it!

- Okay. All right.

What are you looking

at them for?

Look... No, I was in New York.

I saw Len.

I wouldn't lie

about something like that.

I'm very superstitious.

You know that.

- What if the plane went down?

- Too bad it didn't.

- Is she pretty?

- No.

No. Not really. No.

Then what? Youth?

Great body? What?

No, no. None of that. Nothing.

It's just... [clicks tongue]

She can write,

you know.

She can write?

This is about writing?

And it never once crossed your mind that

your wanting to sleep with this kid

might have clouded

your literary judgment?

It's just that this novel

she's writing, it's just...

It's stupid.

I know it's stupid.

[whispering]

That's what attracted me.

- Oh. Oh, I get it.

- And okay. Wait...

So you didn't f*ck a student.

You f*cked a book.

You're like some groupie, like one of

those chicks who used to come up to you

after one of your readings because they

thought you were some famous writer.

You know what?

You're worse than a groupie.

- You're like a vampire sucking this kid's blood.

- Okay.

A guy whose own daughter barely talks

to him because he forgot she existed.

You were so self-involved, so in

love with your own little problems,

that the only way that

she can get your attention

is to start dating a guy whose reputation

is so bad even you will have heard of it,

even with your head

so far up your a*s.

Okay, that's...

All right. Sherrie.

Those pathetic little crushes

you used to get on students,

always simpering about how Little Miss

Such-and-Such is really very talented,

and always asking me if anyone would

still think you were attractive.

I should have known better.

Serves me right for thinking

that we were different.

We weren't like everybody else.

We weren't the clich.

The aging, insecure writer and

his pathetic, supportive wife.

- Okay.

- God, what could possibly be more clich

than thinking

you're not one?

Whatever the f*ck you are looking

for, it is not out there.

It is not in me.

And it's not in the p*ssy

of one of your students

who just happens

to be able to write.

I know that. Don't you

think that I know that?

She's filing a sexual

harassment suit against me.

Good.

I hope they crucify you.

I hope they f*cking

make you pay.

[sighs]

[sighs heavily]

[engine starts]

[phone buzzing,

ringtone chiming]

Ruby. Hi, honey.

I was going to call you...

I think it sucks

what you did to Mom.

You should feel

like sh*t.

- That's how you made her feel.

- No, I know that. I know.

- And I can offer up no worthy defense.

- [line clicks, beeping]

I...

[groans]

Well.

Nice talking to you too.

[vintage jazz playing]

[woman]

Falling in love again

Never wanted to

What's a girl to do?

Can't help it

Love's always been my game

Play it how I may

[man] I'm sorry, my friend,

but you have left me no choice.

I must request

your resignation.

[man] All sold out. Standing

room only, Herr Professor.

- [Professor] I will not go on.

- What happened to you?

Are you mad?

You have got to go on.

Put on his wig.

Don't get excited,

Herr Professor.

- Be calm, please.

- [people shouting]

Ladies and gentlemen,

an egg.

Crow! Kikeriki.

Kikeriki!

Kikeriki!

[strained crowing]

[crowing continues]

[laughing,

chattering]

[alarm beeps]

[exhales]

[Francis] We all know

why we're here...

to investigate the charges

brought by Miss Angela Argo

against

Professor Theodore Swenson.

This committee has already taken a

number of depositions under advisement.

Do you have

any questions, Ted?

Ted?

No. No.

I suppose we should

just begin.

Can you tell us

in your own words

what happened at Dean Bentham's

on the evening of November 6?

Well...

Did you ever notice

anything unusual

in Professor Swenson's

behavior toward Ms. Argo?

Well...

Did he do anything in class

that led you to suspect

that he was involved

inappropriately with Ms. Argo?

Did you ever see him with Ms. Argo

in a venue that surprised you?

- Well...

- Thank you for coming in.

We appreciate your honesty.

Thank you for your courage,

Miss Williams.

The committee appreciates

your help.

Could you tell us the reason for Ms.

Argo's visits to the health clinic?

This one time she came in... Sherrie

Swenson and I were on duty...

and she said that she had

been having suicidal thoughts.

She was worried that she'd never

meet a man she could love.

How did you respond?

She wanted to know

how we met our husbands.

So we told her, and it

seemed to give her comfort.

Well, thank you so much

for coming.

Okay, Angela.

Do you feel ready?

[clears throat]

[bell tolling]

Let us start by saying

that everybody understands

how difficult it has been

for you to do this,

how brave you are

for helping to make sure

that this kind of thing

is stopped.

I want to start

by asking,

when did you first realize

that Professor Swenson

was interested

in something beyond

the ordinary

student-teacher relationship?

Well, I caught him looking

at me in class a lot.

And then I found out

he checked out my book of

poems from the library.

And, um, I figured

something was going on.

[woman]

How did that make you feel?

It creeped me out,

big time.

How did things

between you progress?

I guess it was when I told him

that my computer crashed,

and he offered to take me down to

Burlington to the computer store.

Objection, Your Honors.

I did not offer. She asked.

Ted, you'll get

your chance.

And this isn't

a court of law.

Addressing us as "Your

Honors" isn't necessary.

All right. Okay.

Then what happened?

Nothing, at first.

He seemed

really nervous,

like he was scared

someone would see us.

And then?

When we were

on our way back,

he started talking about

his editor in New York

and asked if I would like

the guy to look at my novel.

And that's when he

put his hand on mine

and moved it to my leg...

Oh, my God.

That is bullshit, Angela!

That is complete

and total bullshit!

- Ted.

- It's bullshit.

- You'll get your say.

- It's bullshit.

- Please.

- Excuse the interruption.

Please continue.

Anyway, when we got back

to the dorm,

he offered to help me carry

the computer up to my room.

And you told him yes?

I was just feeling

totally passive,

like I was totally out of

control of everything.

And what happened next,

Angela?

I know this is hard for you,

but we do have to know.

Well... um...

Then we sort of

had sex.

Or we began to,

and then his tooth cracked.

- [woman] And?

- That ended it.

How did you feel?

Relieved.

I shouldn't have done it,

but I guess what he was offering

in exchange was too tempting.

Did he keep up his end

of the bargain?

He lied.

He said his editor

wasn't interested

and didn't want to take

a look at my book.

Go ahead, honey.

Tell 'em.

- Tell them the good news.

- Good news?

Please.

About a week ago, I got a call

from a guy named Len Currie.

Professor Swenson's

editor.

He said he'd found my manuscript on

the chair where they had had lunch,

and he picked it up and read

it on his way home in a cab,

and that he...

he's offered me a contract

to publish it.

[woman]

That is wonderful!

- Am I done?

- [Francis] Yes, of course. Thank you.

And, uh, congratulations

on your... on your book.

Thanks, I guess.

Now I have to finish it.

Ted, I imagine there are now some

things that you would want to say.

First of all, I'd like

to say that I'm sorry.

Sorrier than you can

even ever imagine.

I'm sorry that...

I ruined my marriage.

Sorry that I ruined my career.

I'm sorry that I sacrificed

my extraordinary wife

for an adolescent idea

of romance.

Sorry that I can't seem

to write a novel

that's nearly as good

as my first.

Sorry that my daughter

won't speak to me.

Sorry that... my father

set himself on fire.

And I'm sorry that I've spent

the better part of a decade,

which I will never get back,

among all of you.

I admit that my behavior

towards Angela was...

inappropriate

and unprofessional.

I regret it.

And I regret it so much.

But I do not agree with the way

it's been presented here today.

The truth has been twisted.

What happened

between Angela and me...

was personal,

and it was complicated.

But it was never, ever

a business transaction.

That's a lie.

That's it.

Excellent. Thank you.

And thank you all.

The committee will be letting

you know its decision

within, let's say,

the next two weeks.

[Ted's voice] In The Blue Angel,

Professor Rath, mad with grief,

wanders through the snowy

streets, broken and humiliated,

the cause of his own undoing.

He died in his classroom,

alone, forsaken,

clinging in vain

to a life no longer his.

But I'm not Professor Rath.

Yes, we both destroyed

the lives we had,

were manipulated

by forces unexplored,

feelings repressed,

ghosts from our past.

But I destroyed the lives

of others too...

those I loved the most,

those who trusted me.

And that is something

I have to live with.

"Why did I let it happen?"

I still ask myself.

Did I set myself on fire

to protest my own complacency?

Was it the only way I could shake off

my inertia and leap into the unknown?

I don't know.

All I do know

is that I'm writing again.

And for the moment,

that is enough.

Excuse me.

How is that?

[man] Sit beside

The breakfast table

Think about your troubles

Pour yourself a cup of tea

Then think about the bubbles

You can take your teardrops

And drop 'em in a teacup

Take 'em down

To the riverside

And throw 'em over the side

To be swept up by a current

Then taken to the ocean

To be eaten by some fishes

Who were eaten

By some fishes

And swallowed by a whale

Who grew so old

He decomposed

Ooh

Doo-doo

Doo-doo

He died and left his body

To the bottom of the ocean

Now everybody knows

That when a body decomposes

The basic elements

Are given back to the ocean

And the sea

Does what it oughta

And soon there's salty water

Not too good for drinking

'Cause it tastes

Just like a teardrop

So they run it

Through a filter

And it comes out

From a faucet

And it pours into a teapot

Which is just

About to bubble

Now

Think about your troubles

Ah

Ah-ah, ah-ah

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah

Ah, ah, ah, ah