01x16 - Poetic Injustice

[bunniefuu]

Tessa: Winter, spring, summer,
fall,

I was familiar with
all four seasons.

So you can imagine how surprised I was
to learn that Chatswin

had one more season.

Croquet.

(Clatters)

(Man) ♪ let's go

♪ let's go, let's go

technique was important,

but so was chemistry
between partners.

Hey, y'all.
This is Sven from Iceland.

He's uncircumcised.

(Thud)
Ow.

Having the wrong partner could
really throw off the game.

(Dallas laughs)

(Sighs)

(Gasps)

Do they have croquet in Mexico?

Oh, I'm from Guatemala.

Croquet season coincided
with mating season,

and Dallas seemed to be
enjoying her newly single life,

even if it was raising
a few eyebrows.

(Dallas chuckles)

(Whispers)
That's a woman.

I can see that, Fred.

(Dallas giggles)

Meanwhile, a new woman had just
entered my life as well.

(Anya Marina)
♪ Semester is out

♪ uh-huh, uh-huh

♪ the teacher is in

♪ uh-huh, uh-huh

♪ there ain't no exams

(Tessa) Cool.

♪ You better bet
you're gonna learn something ♪

♪ uh-huh, uh-huh

♪ oh, uh-huh, uh-huh

♪ oh, uh-huh, uh-huh

Okay. What do you think
about this one?

I think it's weird that
you've tried on three outfits

for a poetry class.

That's because you don't
get it, George.

Ms. Evans is super cool.
I have to look cool,

or she won't realize
how cool I am.

You know, in my day...
The early '90s...

Coolness was about
not trying to look cool.

Nirvana taught us that.

Don't be stupid, George.
Ms. Evans is from San Francisco.

She has a shoulder tattoo,

and she once made out
with Casey Affleck.

I'm gonna go
try on some chunky glasses.

(Doorbell rings)

Sorry to bother you, George,
but it's an emergency.

It's about Dallas.

There's been an accident.

Oh, my God. Is she okay?

No, she's not.

Quite frankly,
she's a hot mess.

She's been parading
a bunch of traveling men

around the croquet field.

Okay, that doesn't sound
like an accident.

It's a social accident.

People are talking.

To be fair, it's mostly us.

And that's usually
how it starts.

She's been acting like
a real tramp.

And that's gonna drive down
property values.

I don't see how it could.
"Tramp town"?

I don't want to live there.
I might plan a day trip...

George, Dallas needs help

and stability
and a croquet partner

who doesn't look like
he has...

Crabs.

Okay, look, I don't know

if Dallas would want me
to be her partner.

The last time I tried
to give her personal advice,

we got into a fight.

She's a little sensitive
post-divorce.

Well, no better way
to mend hurt feelings

than with a mallet
and some balls.

Amen.

(Alih Jay) ♪ Last night I had
a pleasant nightmare ♪

♪ da-da-da-da,
da, da, da, da ♪

(Door creaks)

Sheila!

We closed early for inventory.

You home?

(Singsongy) Hello?

Anybody home?

(Chuckles)

All right.

Hank moody, whose Booty
shall we plunder today?

Damn it!

Ohh!

(Remote control clatters)

Ohh.

Where is that stupid password?

Oh, really?

(Sighs)

(Sheila's voice) "I had
the dream again last night.

I had just finished scolding
Lisa..." (Doorbell rings)

"When the doorbell rang..."

(Door creaks)
"And George was there.

"He complimented
my parenting skills

"and noticed how tidy
the house was.

"I went to fix him
a cup of tea,

"and when I returned,

"he was completely nude
and covered in oil...

"Not the dirty, black oil,

"but the sexy, clear kind.

"He stood there glistening,

"and then he opened my mouth

and kissed me like
a frenchman."

(Sighs) Aah!

(Book thuds)

(Sighs)

(Tessa)
The arrival of Ms. Evans

made me realize what I'd really
been missing in Chatswin...

A role model, someone cool
whose style and taste

i could actually look up to.

You all did a great job on
your first in-class assignment,

but I want to single out
a special student in our midst.

In fact, I don't even know
if we can really call

this person a "student,"

for I believe she's here
to teach us.

It wasn't like me to showboat,

but it also wasn't like me
to question the judgment

of someone
as cool as Ms. Evans.

Dalia Royce,
will you do us the honor

of reading your poem,
"Aids frowny face,"

for the class?

Dalia Royce?

Is that bitch high?

(School bell rings)

Ms. Evans...

Are you high?

Never mind.

I'm super excited
for this class,

and I... really
love poetry.

Thanks, Tessa.
That's a great attitude.

(Lowered voice)
Poetry loves you, too.

(Gasps) Good.

(Chuckles)
I was hoping it did.

Look, I just wanted
to let you know,

unlike everyone else
in this town, I get it.

(Singsongy)
Chatswin is super weird...

(Normal voice)
And kinda shallow,

and if you ever need
someone to stand apart

and observe
the shallow weirdness

with an acerbic wit,

I'm your girl.

I'll keep that in mind.

A 72?

A lot of people think
you can't assign a number grade

to something as subjective
as a poem,

but you can.

Huh.

Don't be so hard
on yourself.

We can't all be Dalia Royce
right out of the gate.

You know, I have been
teaching poetry

for 2 1/4 years now,

and I have never seen anyone
quite like her before.

Yeah, she's unique.

She's able to make
small revelations seem complex.

Her voice has
a sort of detached opacity.

Oh, is that what it has?

Some of that acerbic wit
you were referring to?

Not bad, Tessa. Not bad.

I'd give it a 74.

I know what
you're thinking,

and, yes,
you can also grade wit.

Thanks.

Mm-hmm.

(Indistinct conversations)

I heard this group was looking
for a fourth.

Really, Sheila?

George Altman? That's who you
wanted to set me up with?

Yes, for croquet.
Lookin' good, George.

Really? I'd say he's looking
a little fat in the face.

Fred, nice to see you.

So, George, are you here
to tell me how to live

my newly single life,
oppress me, finesse me,

redress me, wrap me
head to toe in a sherpa?

I-I think you mean a burka.

I refuse to be corrected
by the likes of you.

I may have used the wrong word,
but that's my right.

I'm a full-grown woman,
George Altman. Full-grown.

(Chuckles) Dallas, relax.
No one thinks you're...

Still growing.

- Good.
- Look, I come in peace.

I just thought
it might be nice

to be on the same team
for a change.

Well, we'll just see
about that, George.

I'd like to reserve judgment

until I see
how you handle your mallet.

Oh, this?

I got this.

Boom!

(Chuckles) What was that?

(Chuckles)
Was that your swing? (Laughs)

- That's not how it's done, George.
- Ohh.

It's through the legs.

Let me show you.
I'll show him.

Stand down, Fred.

First of all, you gotta get
a good grip on that shaft, okay?

Okay. Tight, but don't
choke it, all right?

Nice. Good.

Slow thrust here. Thrust...

Mm-hmm.

With a lot
of follow-through.

Mm-hmm.
All right.

Gonna use your body
to drive it.

Drive it. Drive it.

Drive it, George.

Drive it. Good. Drive it.

Drive it
in a straight line.

Drive it! All right.
Drive it, George!

- Whoo!
- Beautiful!

That was beautiful!

It really was. Go, George!

(Billy squier's
"Everybody wants you" playing)

Right through that hole.

♪ You see 'em comin' at you

whoo! Uhh!

♪ Strung on pretension

♪ they fall for you
at first sight ♪

Ow! (Grunts)

Timber! Ha ha ha ha!

♪ Say good-bye
to conventional ways ♪

♪ you can't escape the hours

♪ you lose track of the days

♪ the more you understand

(George)
Right through, ladies!

♪ You never get away

(grunts)

♪ Everybody wants you

(George) Ha ha ha!

♪ Whoo

(lowered voice) Enough.

- What?
- You've made your point.

You're a croquet God.

Now stick it back in your pants
and show a little dignity.

Whoa. Fred,
what's wrong with you?

You are frothing my wife up
into a frothy frenzy,

and I would appreciate
a little decorum.

Uh, okay. I didn't mean
to froth anyone.

Well, you just remember this,
George Altman.

Sheila's last name is
the same as mine,

so no matter how much
she may fantasiz about

your tumescent addendum,
I'm the man she married.

Got it?

I-I don't know what
that means.

What is that on your face?
Is that dirt?

(Scoffs) I have no idea
what you're talking about.

(Indistinct conversations)

What do you think
they're talking about?

Who?

Ms. Evans is probably
telling Dalia

about some cool, new band
whose bass player

she used to date,

a band Dalia would never
in a million years be into,

but I would have loved.

Well, I'm not
a professional lip-reader,

but I think Dalia just said
something about brownies?

Or bran eyes?
Brown thighs.

I hope Dalia enjoys
the attention while it lasts,

because that's
gonna be me soon.

Once Ms. Evans reads
the poem I just finished...

(Exhales deeply)
Things are gonna go

a little differently
around here.

You're gonna have
a tough time competing

with the one I wrote
about Ryan.

Well, I'm not messing
around anymore.

(Paper rustles loudly)

I decided to go there.

Are you...

Playing the "mom left
when I was young" card?

Yeah. Yes, I am.

Desperate times call
for desperate measures.

Seems pretty desperate.

That's the first time
I've beaten the Shays ever.

Felt good. Felt real good.

Thank you.

Did you notice anything
strange about Sheila today?

You mean the shoes?

I wasn't gonna go there,
but it looked like

she stole 'em off
a court Jester.

There! Somebody said it.

(Lowered voice) I wasn't
talking about her shoes.

Did you notice her
throwing me any vibes?

Vibes? What kind of vibes?

(Sighs) Sexual vibes.

I think
you're stone-cold trippin'.

If I recall, just recently,

you accused me of being
into you as well.

After you kissed me,
not to harp,

but this...
This is different.

(Chuckles) Sounds like
someone's decided

they're the white Wesley Snipes
of Chatswin.

The whole female population's
in some sort

of hormonal tizzy...
(Cell phone alert chimes)

Since you rolled into town.
Is that it, George? (Sighs)

(Whispers) I'm not wearing
any underwear. (Gasps)

"Bugatti Veyron.
Lamborghini Murceilago.

"Pagani Zonda. Ferrari Enzo.

"Think about it.

"You guys.

Cars."

Boom.

(Whispers) Wow.

(Normal voice) Powerful.

Wow. I just got it.

Welcome, Lisa...
To getting it.

Okay. (Chuckles) Whew.

(Chuckles)
Who'd like to go next?

Although I can't imagine trying
to follow that act.

(Sighs)

"Mother.

"Girl turns 3
on a store-bought cake.

"Extinguished the candles
but not the hate.

"No kiss good night.

"No lipstick red.

"No cool hand

touching her feverish..."

(Voice breaks) "Head."

Okeydokey.

(School bell rings)

Tessa, can I see you
for a moment?

(Singsong voice, under breath)
Finally. Some recognition.

(Whispers) Okay.

Can I ask you
something personal?

Oh, God, yes!
Ask me anything.

Let's connect.

Was there any truth
behind your poem today?

A lot of truth.

So much truth, truly.

Huh. Strange.

I found myself not caring.

Not...

Caring at all,
and it pained me

to see you grasping
at straws creatively.

Dalia, would you consider
working with Tessa

on her poetry?

Ugh. Do I have to?

No, certainly not.
Totally up to you.

I really don't like Tessa.

Wow. You don't pull
any punches, do you?

(Whispers) That's brave.

It's just
I really can't stand Tessa.

So honest.

Look, I can throw in
a little extra credit for you.

Okay. Fine.

I guess I'll do it,
since it's for extra credit.

You are both true and wise

- Dalia Royce.
- I know.

- Good news, she's willing..
- Yeah.

I heard.

I don't have
an original idea in my head.

Poetry class not going well?

Teacher didn't give you an "A"
for those chunky glasses?

- She's not into me.
- Oh, come on.

Believe me, no one's
more surprised than I am.

Ms. Evans is inexplicably
enamored with... Dalia.

Dalia Royce.

- I don't get it.
- Yikes.

Yeah. It stings.
It stings a lot.

Dalia is the most vapid,
shallow, black hole

of a human being
I've ever met.

Oh, o-okay.
Don't take it out on Dalia.

H-have you ever considered that
maybe it's not so easy being

the object of affection?

- No.
- I'm just saying,

sometimes it hard to be
aggressively adored

by someone whose attention
you don't really want.

Maybe, just maybe,
Dalia is the real victim here.

Really? This is where
you want to take

the conversation, George?
Sympathy for Dalia?

You are a horrible dad.

Now that's the kind of negative
attention I'm used to.

(Sighs)

(Lowered voice) What are you
dreaming about, Sheila?

Are you dreaming about
gorgeous George Altman?

Is he the hot delivery boy
tonight,

coming to your door
with a pile of fresh meat?

No. No, no, no.
Stop dreaming about him.

Dream about Fred,

comfortable, steadfast Fred,

always-there-for-you Fred,

Fred
of the k*ller foot massage.

(Sighs) Ohh.
I can't take it.

I can't take it.
(Switch clicks)

What? What is it?
Is it a night prowler?

(Sighs) No.

(Sighs)
Sheila, we need to talk.

I-I read your diary.

What? Fred, that's
a violation of my privacy.

I know. I'm sorry.

Believe me,
I wish I hadn't seen it,

because now I know
how you feel about George,

and I can't get it out
of my head.

(Sighs)

Well...
Maybe it's for the best.

What?

Having it out in the open,
I mean.

It's a schoolgirl fantasy.

But you're not a schoolgirl.

(Sighs)

I'm glad you know.

I love you, Fred,

and that is unchanged
by the fact

that I lust endlessly
over George.

(Sighs) Ohh.

(Panting)

(Lowered voice)
Grow, you bastard. Grow.

(Inhales deeply and sighs)

Whether or not
Dalia was actually good

at poetry didn't matter.

Ms. Evans thought she was,
and I had to find out why.

How?

It's easy.

I just empty my head,
and words pop in it.

Could you walk me through
that process step-by-step?

You know, you suck
right now, even for you.

Just tell me how to write
good poetry

that Ms. Evans will like!

Just stop trying so hard!

(Brush clatters)

You know,
you're totally fanning out

over some gross teacher
with greasy hair.

Ms. Evans is awesome.

How would you know?

All you know is
that she doesn't like you.

She's your Scott Strauss.

- What?
- Remember when he was dating

- that really ugly girl...
- That was me.

And the more he didn't jock me,
the more I jocked him?

That's you,

except with a sad, middle-aged,
weirdo poetry teacher with B.O.

Did I just receive a lesson
in human nature

from the least human person
I know?

Yeah, you think
about that, beeyotch,

because I see it
sinking in.

(Doorbell rings)

I want you to make love
to my wife.

Fred, diggin' the goatee.

(Sighs)
Come on in.

I can't.

I-I care about you
as a friend, but I can't.

I won't.

Okay, look, George, Noah,

I've put a lot of thought
into this. A lot.

I love my wife.

She means the world to me,

but she has needs
that I'm not fulfilling,

and I want them to be fulfilled.

Fred, please...

Hear the man out.
(Chuckles)

(Sighs)
I-I have pride, sure,

but I can crumple
that pride up

into a little ball
and eat it.

For Sheila, I can eat it,
and I will.

Fred, Sheila loves you.

If there is
some fleeting infatuation

that she has going on with me,
it's just that... fleeting.

Are you saying no? I mean,
you won't satisfy my wife?

What, is she not good enough
for you, Mr. Altman?

'Cause let me tell you
something.

She will do things to you...

Things you can't
even imagine,

things that aren't
even legal.

I believe it.

Okay, Fred,
go home to your wife.

Go work this thing out,
the two of you.

Well, this isn't very neighborly
of you, George.

It's not very neighborly at all,

so let's just see what happens
the next time

you want to borrow my rake,
shall we?

I have a rake.

I'm gonna try
to transfer out.

After failing gym,
I can't really afford

a "C" in poetry.
(Spritzing)

Wow. So you're off
Ms. Evans, huh?

It's weird.

I don't know what made me
so desperate

for the approval
of a withholding older woman

who clearly wanted nothing
to do with me.

Yeah.

Yeahno. Me either.

Yeah.

It's a puzzler.

Yeah. No, it is.
It's curious.

Mm-hmm.

(Door creaks open)

Fred, where have you been?
I have been worried sick.

Sheila, I need to speak
to you privately.

I failed you. George wouldn't
agree to make love to you.

I asked him, but he denied me.
Hey, Tessa. Hello, Lisa.

What in God's name
are you talking about?

George Altman...
Your fantasy.

I'm only sorry I couldn't
make him your reality.

He won't have intercourse
with you,

won't even consider it.

Fred, I am not attracted
to George Altman.

I couldn't be less attracted
to George Altman.

He's... unkempt!

The George from my diary
is George Stephanopoulos.

The little Greek man
from "Good morning America"?

I like a tidy, petite man.
You know that.

(Sighs) You couldn't
have used a last name?

I don't know how
to spell his name.

It's not my fault.
It's a ridiculous last name!

Oh, Sheila Shay-Shay.

(Both laugh)

(Door closes)

(TV playing indistinctly)

- Where's George? I've got news.
- He's about to do something drastic.

I tried to talk him out of it,
but he wouldn't listen to me.

(Buzzing)

Just do it.

Wait!

Stop.
(Buzzing stops)

Tessa, I love it, too,
but it's gotta go,

for everyone's good.

(Sighs) I think
it's just too sexy.

Dad, Sheila's not obsessed
with you.

She's obsessed with the George
from "Good morning America,"

so you may not be the Casanova
of Chatswin after all.

Oh.

Hi. What's... what's this?

It's a ball carrier
for you to carry your balls.

"George-ass"?

Oh, it's pronounced
"George-uhs."

It's a combination
of both our names,

like Bennifer, Brangelina,
or Ceelo.

I-I think
he's just one guy.

He couldn't possibly be.

Well... (Sighs) It's time
to make it official, George,

since we're gonna be
partners and all.

So are we?