The Donahues Episode 125

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Ethan entertains an inexplicably amazing offer to buy his house, Jacob laments that he cannot warn his father to not take the deal before he gets out of prison and Ryan uses viral marketing to promote his album

Submitted: October 15, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 15, 2013









“Impressing to be the best today, just is not good enough for one to portray. One has to have a stamina to tolerate with patience, a sickness that is dismissed”

-Lawrence Pertillar


(We start with Ryan waiting in a room in his chiropractor’s office. Doctor Heitkamp walks into the office and Ryan stands up and shakes his hand)


DOCTOR HEITKAMP: Hey Ryan, how are you?


RYAN: I’m well.


(Their hands disconnect)


DOCTOR HEITKAMP: Perfect, is that true?


RYAN: Not really, how are you?


DOCTOR HEITKAMP: I’m great, let’s have you on your back. (Ryan lays on the adjustment table and Doctor Heitkamp takes an adjustment tool and feels Ryan’s neck) There’s some tightness in the neck area.


RYAN: Yeah, I slouch a lot.




RYAN: I have to show irreverence towards teachers, school and the world in general, so that’s how I accomplish it.


DOCTOR HEITKAMP: Well, you’re gonna need to work on that, bud. (Doctor Heitkamp uses the adjustment tool to adjust several areas of Ryan’s back) The middle of your back is quite tense as well.


RYAN: Can you press on my spine a little harder?




(Doctor Heitkamp presses on Ryan’s spine a bit harder)


RYAN: A little harder. (He presses harder) Harder?


(Doctor Heitkamp takes pressure off)


DOCTOR HEITKAMP: I’m not going to break your back, Ryan.


RYAN: Damnit, I just wanted to see if that would trigger acid flashbacks.




(Ryan gets up)


RYAN: What’s next?


(Cut to Ryan and Doctor Heitkamp walking out of his office)


DOCTOR HEITKAMP: Here at the Chiropractic Care Center of Hansbay, we’re, sort of like, a family! In that, we provide for each other financially and live here and I have adopted everybody who works here.


RYAN: So you’re like a cult?


DOCTOR HEITKAMP: Well, don’t put labels on things. Now let sister wife twelve take you to the rotation table.


(A woman in scrubs walks over and leads Ryan to the rotation table)


SISTER WIFE TWELVE: This is going to stretch out your spine real nice.


(Cut to Ryan walking out of the Chiropractor’s office to see Chance, Michael and Oleander standing in front of it while the sun sets)


RYAN: What? What are you guys doing here? And how is it already twilight?


CHANCE: Look at this.


(Chance takes out a CD labeled “Depraved Hallway Fern- Burn The Burbs” it is mostly a dark purple cover with a depiction of Ryan, Oleander and Chance driving down the road of a suburb and using a blowtorch to set fire to mailboxes)


RYAN: Oh my God, he finished it?! He released it?! (Michael shakes his head) He didn’t?


CHANCE: No, what Michael is trying to say is that it sucks.


RYAN: What?


CHANCE: My diphead uncle fucked it up.


RYAN: Then why did he release it? We have to re-mix it!


OLEANDER: He said it was unworkable. Something about our voices, our guitar playing and our drumming.


RYAN: So basically he’s saying our entire band sucks?


OLEANDER: He said it in a slightly more out-of-breath way, but yes.


RYAN: And why would he release it?!


CHANCE: Because we paid him to and he was sick of working on it.


RYAN: What do you think went wrong?!


(Michael nudges Chance)


CHANCE: Uh, because we were constantly fighting during the studio sessions because it ALWAYS has to be your way! You are the ultimate arbiter of what we can do and what we cannot, isn’t that right?


RYAN: Chance, why isn’t Michael speaking?


CHANCE: Michael’s not speaking until you admit you’re a bisexual.


RYAN: Jesus, man, it’s been three months.


CHANCE: Time does not cure faggotry, Ryan.


OLEANDER: Look at Liberace.


RYAN: I’m pretty sure he was solved-listen, all this acrimony is getting us nowhere, we need to get that album off the shelves! Where is it being sold?


CHANCE: What the fuck do you mean? iTunes.


RYAN: Oh yeah, I almost forgot it’s not the 1970s. Then how do we suppress it?


OLEANDER: There’s only one incredibly convoluted and unnecessary way to do it.


RYAN: How about the easy way instead? You know, the one that doesn’t involve me standing here trying to shield the setting sun from my eyes?


(Cut to Ethan walking into work, back from lunch on October 7th. Evan walks over holding coffee)


EVAN: Welcome back, Ethan. Where were you for lunch?


ETHAN: I just stopped by my house for a second to get lunch, where were you?


EVAN: The break room. Eating a cliff bar and Starbucks coffee as my lunch, alone. Just, waiting for you.


ETHAN: A Cliff Bar and a Starbucks? Jesus man, give your intestines a break.


EVAN: I have! Because I held it just waiting for you to join me for lunch!


ETHAN: Oh my God, Evan, weren’t you supposed to be with those two imbeciles from the Discovery Channel?


EVAN: They’re fine on their own, I was tired of hanging out with them anyway. They remind me of my cousins.


ETHAN: Evan, are your cousins responsible for determining whether the ground below us is made of cash?


EVAN: No, but they are responsible for several moonshine distilleries across Appalachia.


ETHAN: Evan, have you checked up on them?


EVAN: I’ll call them as soon as I use the restroom.


ETHAN: Yeah, that’s priority number one. (Evan runs away as Ethan walks into Mayor Sarandon’s office to see him on his phone) Brian-


MAYOR SARANDON: Ethan, what’s your number one motivation?


ETHAN: I don’t really have time for that, Brian, I-


MAYOR SARANDON: Ethan, answer the question, what is your number one motivation?


ETHAN: …I guess money?


MAYOR SARANDON: WRONG. (Mayor Sarandon stands up and puts his phone down) It’s MOTIVATION!


ETHAN: …My number one motivation is motivation?


MAYOR SARANDON: Exactly right. Hence, the deal of a lifetime we’re about to enter into with this fabulous young woman, Rhonda Taylor. Rhonda?


(Rhonda comes out from under the desk, which makes Ethan momentarily wide-eyed and causes him to rub his eyes)


RHONDA: That’s right, Brian.


MAYOR SARANDON: Rhonda here is a well-known real estate developer in the Hansbay area. She is offering us a deal that will blow you away.


RHONDA: Tornado insurance! (Mayor Sarandon and Rhonda laugh) I kid. No, I am offering to buy both YOU and Mayor Sarandon’s properties. 750,000 for your’s and 3 million for Mayor Sarandon’s.


ETHAN: Really?






RHONDA: It’s called a reverse mortgage, Ethan.


MAYOR SARANDON: Come on, Ethan, the least you could do is study up beforehand.


ETHAN: I had no idea she was going to be here, also, that is not what a reverse mortgage.


MAYOR SARANDON: Personally, reverse mortgage is my favorite sex position. HEY-O!


(Rhonda laughs and high-fives Mayor Sarandon)


RHONDA: My favorite sex position is ten feet away! (She holds up her hook for a hand) Watch out!



(He laughs)


ETHAN: Yeah, I guess I still don’t understand why you want to buy the house.


RHONDA: You’re getting a million dollars out of it. Why question the deal? (Rhonda takes out a contract that is printed on parchment. She takes out a razor and a pen and puts them on top) You may sign it in blood OR in pen AND you must sign it with your feet, just as a method of deterring the possibility of your signature being counterfeited.


ETHAN: I see.


RHONDA: But also for my amusement.


ETHAN: Uh-huh.


RHONDA: Mostly for my amusement.


MAYOR SARANDON: Just sign it, Ethan, I did. You could walk out of here with 750,000 dollars in your pocket.


ETHAN: I try not to have that much money on me, you know, with muggers and such.


MAYOR SARANDON: You know what I mean.


ETHAN: It just seems too good to be true. My house is worth 350,000 dollars at best. There must be some ulterior motive here.


RHONDA: That’s really not the case, Mr. Donahue. It’s just…your house was once owned by a very famous person, we recently discovered.


ETHAN: …Who?


RHONDA: Andreas Wilson.


ETHAN: Andreas Wilson?


RHONDA: Andreas Wilson, he was an American journalist and author, very famous. He died in 2007 from acute renal failure, and, he lived in your house for a few years in the late sixties.


ETHAN: And this makes it valuable? I’ve never even heard of this person.


RHONDA: Andreas Wilson is my favorite author, sir. I would absolutely wretch if I could not live in his house.


MAYOR SARANDON: Sign it, man. We’re going to be rich!

ETHAN: You’re already rich, Brian, what’s another three million to you, man?


MAYOR SARANDON: But imagine it, Ethan, if you finally become rich, you can join my yacht club again.


ETHAN: …Well…shit. I feel like I should talk to my wife about this.


MAYOR SARANDON: 750,000 dollars, you know how many yachts you could buy with that kind of cash?


ETHAN: How many?




ETHAN: I’ll do it, but I demand a share of the profits for this Andreas Wilson museum or whatever the hell it is.


RHONDA: Agreed.


(Ethan shakes Rhonda’s hand)


ETHAN: Also, I’m signing it in pen.


RHONDA: At least dip it in blood!


(Cut to Jacob sitting dipping a quill in blood with a piece of paper in front of him. He then turns to Officer Farcasiu with his shirt off, kneeling and facing his back towards Jacob)


OFFICER FARCASIU: I usually wouldn’t get a tattoo, but my wife says we should spice things up.


JACOB: This is not going to be a tattoo.


OFFICER FARCASIU: Will it spice things up?


JACOB: Your wife will never want to speak to you again.


OFFICER FARCASIU: Go ahead. (Jacob starts writing on his back) So, I sent the message to your dad.


JACOB: Very nice. Thank you. I will compensate you with either cigarettes, handjobs from a guy named Aurora Borealis or a gruel sandwich at participating prison cafes.


OFFICER FARCASIU: I’ll take cash.


JACOB: Fine, I’ll have my dad wire it to you.


OFFICER FARCASIU: Yeah, because I had to do super express mail.


JACOB: Yeah.


OFFICER FARCASIU: But anything to protect your dad from Norman Mailer.


JACOB: Yup. (Pause) Wait, what?


OFFICER FARCASIU: But anything to protect your dad from Norman Mailer.


JACOB: Who the fuck is that?


OFFICER FARCASIU: The American journalist and novelist who you wanted me to tell your dad to not trust. You know, he died six years ago, I wouldn’t worry about it.


JACOB: WHAT? I told you to tell him not to trust Rhonda Taylor, not, not Norman Mailer!


OFFICER FARCASIU: And that’s on me?


JACOB: YES! Of course! You got her name AND gender wrong!


OFFICER FARCASIU: Hey! You cannot talk to me like that, inmate!


JACOB: You let me write on your back! As far as I’m concerned this is a comfortable relationship!


OFFICER FARCASIU: Just finish up, okay?


JACOB: Fine! (Jacob writes more stuff on his back) How’s that for finishing up?


(Officer Farcasiu stands up)


OFFICER FARCASIU: Finally. Can you take a picture?


JACOB: Gladly.


(Farcasiu hands his phone to Jacob who snaps a picture of his back. The tattoo says “Occifer Farcasiu fucks ass and can’t remember names”)




(Cut to Jacob in the hole)




(Officer Farcasiu looks through the tiny window of the door to the hole)










(Jacob starts crying. Cut to Ryan, Chance, Oleander and Michael at the door of Winslow’s house. Chance is holding coffee)


CHANCE: I’ll be the bad cop.


RYAN: I’ll be the good cop.


MICHAEL: I’ll be the cop who can’t concentrate as well because he’s going through a divorce.


OLEANDER: I’ll be the pathetic sidekick cop.


(Winslow opens the door)


WINSLOW: Oh hi, boys!


CHANCE: Winslow, what the fuck?!




RYAN: Hey, just let’s just calm down, may we come inside?




(Ryan, Chance, Michael and Oleander come in as Winslow closes the door)


MICHAEL: Listen, I uh…jeez, that album you released, it’s…um…bad. It’s been defiled. (He stares off into the distance) Just like everything else before.


OLEANDER: Tell him, boss!




WINSLOW: Listen, you guys! The album was unworkable! There were only so many knobs I could push up and down at random to get the sound somewhat right. And by the way, have you ever considered that it was partially your guys’ faults?




RYAN: Whoa, whoa, Chance, let’s all sit down and talk about this, huh? Winslow, maybe you could make tea for everybody or something.


WINSLOW: I have a pot of Ayahuasca ready if anybody’s interested.


RYAN: What’s that?


WINSLOW: Hallucinogenic tea.


RYAN: I’d love to try that someday, but not now.


WINSLOW: it’s Starbucks brand!


(Cut to them sitting in Winslow’s living room)


CHANCE: We want you to take the album off of iTunes so we can re-group.




CHANCE: …I beg your fucking pardon?


RYAN: Chance.


MICHAEL: Bitch won’t get a dime.


WINSLOW: I’ve already spent a lot of money on producing this album and I’m operating on a loss. I don’t see this album making enough money to break even and especially not become profitable.


RYAN: That’s why we have to try again! Make it better so we can make enough money to become profitable!


WINSLOW: But then I’ll just be spending more money on something that could potentially make it even more of a loss, and personally, I don’t even think you guys sound that good, man. (They all stare with barely suppressed rage. Chance’s coffee sends steam into the air) Whoa, how did your coffee do that?


CHANCE: It too, feels my rage. It is a part of me. We are one.


RYAN: Dickish comments aside, if you’re going to lose money off of it anyway, why keep it on iTunes?


WINSLOW: Just in case. If it starts making money, then we can talk. That’s the best offer I can make you at this point.


RYAN: …We need to get out lawyer on the horn.


OLEANDER: Give it to him, boss.


RYAN: And by our lawyer I mean the one Jewish kid we know.


(Cut to Kyle Lautenberg in his apartment making out with some chick on his couch. The chick stops making out for a second)


CHICK: Wait.


KYLE: What?


CHICK: I feel a warmness on my leg.


(Zoom out to reveal Kyle’s dick is out)


KYLE: I don’t know what that could be.


(The chick backs off)


CHICK: Ew! Kyle! What the fuck?!


KYLE: What?! “Make out with your dick out”! That’s what my mom always said!


CHICK: Why would she ever say that?!


KYLE: It’s out just in case, like an emergency brake or something-


CHICK: Jesus.


(The chick gets up and leaves Kyle’s apartment. Kyle gets up)


KYLE: Taylor! Ugh... (Kyle, whose ringtone is “Royals” by Lorde, gets a phone call) hello?


RYAN: (On the phone) Hello-wait, is your ringtone “Royals” by Lorde?


KYLE: How could you possibly know that?


RYAN: It was playing instead of the normal ring on my end. Must be a new feature.


KYLE: it’s a good song okay? Leave me alone.


RYAN: I’m older than her and she’s famous, I hate her.


KYLE: Who even is this?


RYAN: This is your ex-girlfriend’s brother.


KYLE: Oh okay, how is prison, Jacob?


RYAN: No, the other brother.


KYLE: …Ethan?




KYLE: OH! Of course. How are you, Ryan? What can I do for you?


RYAN: You’re a Semitic, correct?


KYLE: Yes.


RYAN: Well, my band sort of needs legal advice when it comes to an album we released on iTunes. Our producer released the album without our consent and we don’t like how it turned out, so we asked him to take it down, but he refused. What legal recourse do we have?


KYLE: First off, I’m very offended you think my Judaism automatically grants me legal prowess.


RYAN: You’re welcome.


KYLE: However, based off my understanding of common sense which you don’t need a law degree for, you probably want to look at the contract you signed with the person in question.


RYAN: Okay. Hold on. (Cut to Ryan, Chance, Michael and Olly in Michael’s room. Ryan is on the phone) Michael, where is the contract we signed?


MICHAEL: Uh, hold on. (Michael takes out his wallet and takes out things as he lists them off) Credit card, debit card, “buy whatever” card, business card, hotel key from five years ago, Harpoon Enthusiasts’ club card-AH-HA! Here we are. (He takes out the contract folded up and unfolds it) It says here that “Winslow McMiller reserves the right to do whatever he pleases with the album”.


CHANCE: What? Where does it say that? Is it written in fine print on the back or something?


MICHAEL: It says that in the stationary.


RYAN: Jesus, nobody even bothered to glance at the contract before we signed it? (To Kyle) Kyle, can we back out of the contract?


KYLE: (On phone) Not unless you want to risk losing the rights to your songs and then all the money they could potentially earn.


RYAN: Then what do we do?


KYLE: Are your songs bad in general or were they just not recorded as well as they should’ve been?


RYAN: It’s the latter.


KYLE: Well, then I say write some negative reviews.


RYAN: …What?


KYLE: Yeah. You see, Ryan, potatoes used to be considered a ghastly fruit-


RYAN: They’re starches.


KYLE: Yeah, and people hated them. However, the French kingdom decided to classify potatoes as a royal vegetable-


RYAN: They’re starches.


KYLE: And this aroused public curiosity in them, as potatoes were ordered to be guarded closely by the crown. However, they were secretly ordered to not be guarded very well. So peasants would steal them now that the vegetable had this “forbidden fruit” aura lent to it.


RYAN: And then, what? Cosette sings to the potatoes through the fence? What is your point?


KYLE: Write some scathing fake reviews, release a couple singles on YouTube as “bootlegs” and convince your producer to take the album off iTunes because if you’re music is good enough, then there will be a demand to bring it back.


RYAN: …Huh. Thank you, Kyle. I will take that into consideration.


KYLE: You’re welcome. Also, please tell Madeline I’m a total asshole so you can forbid my fruit as well!


RYAN: I’m not going to mention your fruit to my sister.


KYLE: It’s actually more like a starch, recently.


RYAN: Okay.


KYLE: Can I talk to you about my dry spell?


RYAN: Absolutely you may not.


KYLE: It’s been a real bitch- (Ryan hangs up. Cut to Kyle on the phone) I’m jerking it so much, that I can barely produce a thimble’s worth of semen at any given time, I’ve actually taken to masturbating into thimbles, if you can believe that. Hello?


(Cut to Ethan and Mayor Sarandon in Mayor Sarandon’s office, sitting and smoking cigars)


ETHAN: I’ll tell you one thing, that was a terrific deal. Just my luck, my house was owned by some fucking guy who was famous or whatever and then some fan girl waltzes into my office and offers me 700 grand?! Shit, I am the luckiest motherfucker ever.


MAYOR SARANDON: Exactly, and eventually you’ll be able to afford cubarn cigars like me.


ETHAN: Cubarn?


MAYOR SARANDON: Yeah, they’re like Cuban cigars but even more expensive, they’re from the island nation of “Cubar” that Kennedy always talked about.


ETHAN: I think they just might be Cuban cigars and you bought them from a guy with a Boston accent.


MAYOR SARANDON: Maybe, because as soon as I asked him where “cubar” was, he jacked up and the price and told me “cubarn” cigars were more valuable.


ETHAN: Jesus, Brian.


MAYOR SARANDON: I’M SORRY! I’m a sucker for the expensive!


ETHAN: Well, I have to go tell my wife. She’s going to be psyched.


MAYOR SARANDON: Are you sure? The fairer sex tend to overreact to things like this.


ETHAN: (Sarcastically) Yeah, I’ll just keep her in the dark then.


MAYOR SARANDON: Do it! Never turn the lights off in your next house and tell her she’s gone blind and she’ll never know!


ETHAN: Bye, Brian.


(Ethan walks out of the office. Cut to Kimberly in her business office on her computer)


KIMBERLY: How are these Republican assholes complaining about the effects of the shutdown?! I mean, what the fuck?! THEY caused it!! And then they move barriers from the World War II memorials so veterans can get in like they’re breaking down the Great Wall of Obama or some shit-it’s like, it’s like, a surgeon stabbing an artery and then holding the patient in their arms and being like “DON’T DIE ON ME, DAMNIT!” You’re the REASON he’s dying!!


(Jamie walks in)


JAMIE: Uh-oh. ROB! We have a 952!


(Rob comes in)


ROB: Shutdown butt frustration?


JAMIE: Correct.




ROB: Okay. (Rob runs over and puts his hands on Kimberly’s shoulder as she hyperventilates) Kimberly, calm down, you’re suffering from shutdown butt frustration.




ROB: I know. Take this.


(Rob puts a nitrous oxide applicator thing over her mouth, but Kimberly pushes it away)


KIMBERLY: No, I’m fine.


(Ethan walks in)


ETHAN: You have a visitor.




(Kimberly stands up and walks over to Ethan and kisses him)


ETHAN: Hello.


KIMBERLY: What brings you by?


ETHAN: Rob, Jamie, could we have a second?


JAMIE: Sure.


ROB: Yeah, should I just leave my nitrous oxide in here, or-?


KIMBERLY: Leaving!


ROB: Yes.


(Rob leaves, along with Jamie. Jamie shuts the door)


KIMBERLY: What’s up?


(Ethan smiles)


ETHAN: Sit down.


(Kimberly smiles and sits behind her desk)


KIMBERLY: You can’t surprise me with sex in my quarters, you know.


(Ethan laughs and sits down)


ETHAN: We might need to have sex after you hear this.


KIMBERLY: This room doesn’t have blinds.


ETHAN: I don’t care.


(Kimberly laughs)


KIMBERLY: Why, what is it?!


ETHAN: A Real Estate moguless-


KIMBERLY: There’s no female version of mogul.


ETHAN: Just-shh. Anyway, she came into my office and offered 700,000 dollars for our house because a famous person once lived in it, in other words, we’re RICH!

KIMBERLY: Wait…what?!


ETHAN: We just made 700,000 dollars!


KIMBERLY: Wait, wait, wait, what famous person lived in our house?!


ETHAN: His name was-Adrian Grenier or something-


KIMBERLY: From Entourage?


ETHAN: No, that doesn’t sound right. The point is, we are very soon going to be rich!


KIMBERLY: You already sold it?


ETHAN: Yeah.


KIMBERLY: Without consulting me?!


ETHAN: Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t pass up 700,000 dollars.


KIMBERLY: How do we even know she’s telling the truth about this, this, famous person who lived here?


ETHAN: Who gives a shit?! She’s giving us seven hundred grand!


KIMBERLY: How do we know she can pony up the cash?


ETHAN: Kim, then it would be a violation of the contract and the house would be ours still! Stop trying to look for negatives, we just made over half a million dollars! We can buy a mansion, we can put Ryan and, God willing, Jacob into amazing colleges, maybe Madeline can transfer, we can erect a tomb for both of us to be buried in, side-by-side, I included that in our pre-nup anyway and we can retire to the Cayman Islands-


KIMBERLY: That’s a sore island.


ETHAN: Fair enough, how about the Bahamas?


(Kimberly smiles)


KIMBERLY: That’s better.


ETHAN: Perfect.


KIMBERLY: But this sounds almost too good to be true.


ETHAN: But, it’s you and me, sugar plum. We’ve had a stroke of luck-


KIMBERLY: Don’t call me Sugar Plum, that’s-weird.


ETHAN: We’ve had a stroke of luck after the last year and a half of, fuckin’, awfulness. Jacob going to prison, Ryan’s drug abuse, Ryan’s near-death experiences, our ill-fated cruise, Ryan’s party, my corruption trial and dealing with Mayor Sarandon’s bullshit, my familial issues, especially with Paul-after all that, we’ve finally hit the jackpot.


KIMBERLY: God, I hope you’re right.


ETHAN: Come here.


(Kimberly giddily jumps up and hugs and starts making out with Ethan. Kimberly, after a few seconds, stops making out)


KIMBERLY: What is that- (Zoom out to reveal Ethan’s dick is out) oh my God.


ETHAN: Let me tell you something my mother taught me.


(Cut to Ryan at his computer with Oleander, Michael and Chance behind him)


RYAN: Okay, Olly, give me my snooty rock journalist glasses.


OLEANDER: Do you think I just have humorous props to give you?


RYAN: Fine, just, let’s write this negative review. Where do people write reviews for music?


CHANCE: I guess you could post it on Reddit along with the iTunes link and see how many up-votes it gets.


OLEANDER: It’s better than positing it on 4Chan and seeing how many incest thread links they post in response.


CHANCE: Is that their version of an up vote?




RYAN: Okay. I need a pseudonym though, so I can maintain my anonymity.


MICHAEL: Maybe something like…


RYAN: No, that’s a terrible idea.


OLEANDER: Maybe like, your name, but backwards.


RYAN: Yeah, nobody would be able to crack that code.


OLEANDER: No, I mean like, your name would be “Donahue Ryan”.


RYAN: That’s even easier to crack! Let’s just come up with a chill name, like, like, Ed Stampede! There we go! (Ryan types that in) Okay, what are some criticisms of the album we could write?


CHANCE: Like, real ones, or…?


RYAN: Sure.


CHANCE: Um, how about Ryan always gets his way and allows no creative flow?


RYAN: Jesus, I am not writing that.


CHANCE: Hey! It’s a real criticism of mine! You said “sure”!


RYAN: Do you want me to write about your drumming?


CHANCE: We used a click track! It was fixed! How about the entire band were pissed at each other and it’s hard to play music or sing when there’s a stick up your ass?


RYAN: Okay, who agrees with that?


(They all hold up their hands)


MICHAEL: Although, a lot of that’s Chance’s fault for lashing out at everybody for one tiny critique.


CHANCE: I was tired that day.


MICHAEL: Okay, maybe you’d sleep more if you didn’t drink so much coffee.


CHANCE: Don’t you dare.


RYAN: GUYS! It doesn’t really matter what the criticisms are, as long as they’re not about me, so let’s just write some down.


(Cut to Scott Alexander on his laptop in a college dorm room)


SCOTT: Well, would you look at this. “Depraved Hallway Fern’s new album relies too heavily on rhyming couplets, clichés, guitar bridges that stretch for almost the entire song and blatant plagiarism of old Meat Puppets lyrics to be considered a serious contender in the metal market”. HA! Guess you guys miss me then? I’m taking a selfie of myselfie with this bad review-y and sending it to Ryan.


(Scott takes a selfie in front of his computer with his mouth open and doing a thumbs-up. Cut to “somewhere in Tennessee”, where some sweaty teenager is reading something off his computer)


TENNESSEE TEEN: “Depraved Hallway Fern’s desperate attempt at seeming ‘emo’ is pathetic and puerile, especially in track seven when Donahue straight-up cries during the guitar solo”. What a bunch of faggots, I want to see how bad this is.


(Cut to Thrush from Blood on The Bar Scene on his laptop in the back of a tour bus)


THRUSH: Oh, you have GOT to see this shit, Veejay.


(Veejay walks over and sits down)




THRUSH: The critics gave DHF absolute SHIT for their debut album.


VEEJAY: Shit, really? What did they say?


THRUSH: One critic said “The album can best be described as the musical equivalent of sticking your dick in a fan over and over and over”. Ouch!


VEEJAY: You see, what they need is one of those bladeless fans that shoots air from the sides, then you can stick your dick in it with none of the downside.


THRUSH: How do you have any dick left after the last “downside”?


VEEJAY: I actually never had a dick, so it’s not a problem.




(Cut to the band in Winslow’s living room)


RYAN: We swear to you, Winslow, if you take the album down right now, curious minds will demand you put it back up. This review has been hand-crafted in our small woodland brewery, for viral status. This is marketing, kid. Marketing.


WINSLOW: …It is pretty trippy the way that works, man. We want what we don’t want.


RYAN: That’s an over-simplified way of putting it, but sure.


WINSLOW: I’ll take the album down on one condition.


RYAN: What’s that?


WINSLOW: Chance has to say he loves me.


(They all look at Chance)


CHANCE: Come on, this isn’t fair!


MICHAEL: Just say it, dude!


CHANCE: …Maybe we aren’t cut out for this business, guys! Let’s become farmers.


OLEANDER: Are you serious?! Just say it!

WINSLOW: You don’t even have to look at me when you do it.


RYAN: See?! This is borderline pathetic!


MICHAEL: No, this is way past the borderline.




(Chance takes a sip off coffee and mutters “I love you” with coffee in his mouth)




(Winslow stands up and puts his arms in the air)


RYAN: And you’ll take it down?


WINSLOW: Yes. Let me go do that. Somebody bring me my laptop. Also, does anybody have a charger I can borrow?


RYAN: You have an entire recording studio but you don’t have a charger for your laptop?


WINSLOW: Adam Levine stole it.


MICHAEL: You work with Adam Levine?




MICHAEL: Wow. Who’s that?


(Cut to Jacob sitting in a corner in the hole. He is shivering)


JACOB: Come on, Jakey boy, just, just, just, pull yourself together. Here we go, one time, OH MY GOD, ROB DYRDEK!


(Jacob hallucinates Rob Dyrdek sitting in front of him)


ROB DYRDEK: That’s right, Jacob. It’s your friend Rob Dyrdek. Here to save the day.


JACOB: Mr. Dydrek, you have to let me out, use one of your fantasy factories, or, or, maybe use Big!


ROB DYRDEK: I don’t use Bing.


JACOB: No, I mean Big, your partner in partially scripted reality TV and crime!


ROB DYRDEK: Oh yeah, things are weird between Big and I. Big has a clothing line, and I do, and that just can’t be.


JACOB: Nobody buys celebrity clothing lines-


ROB DYRDEK: Point is, I see things are complicated between you and your dad.


JACOB: Yeah, he probably respects Ryan more since Ryan is not the one who fell ass backwards into prison, EVEN THOUGH Ryan should be put in prison for MUCH longer than I have been, considering the things he’s done, he should be looking at several years in prison for multiple counts of drug possession, consumption, he even tried to deal once. How is this fair?!


ROB DYRDEK: Life has been very unfair to you. And you just want to do right by your father, correct?


JACOB: Of course. But how can I warn him when I’m in this, this, this tomb?!


ROB DYRDEK: I don’t know, but when I need to start a business, I use- (he takes out a box labeled “Legal Zoom”) Legal Zoom to put the law on my side.


JACOB: Are my hallucinations sponsored now?


(Rob Dyrdek is now drinking a Pepsi)


ROB DYRDEK: No! Anyway, just realize that no matter what, he’ll eventually figure out you were trying to warn him. And he’ll appreciate the loyalty.


JACOB: And what if Rhonda has no malicious intent? Could I still get with that?


ROB DYRDEK: Are you interested in keeping all three of your eyes?


JACOB: Fair point. Well, I’m glad you taught me something, ghostly thing, guy.


ROB DYDREK: I’m a hallucinated manifestation of your latent desires, Jacob. I know only what you know.


JACOB: If you know only what I know, then how do you have a better vocabulary than I do?


ROB DYRDEK: Because you’re going fucking crazy, man!

(Rob Dyrdek suddenly has horns)




(Cut to Ethan and Kimberly being lead through the house by Rhonda)


RHONDA: Ah, yes. He would pace around these halls, coming up with new things to write, and on April 18, 1969, he took a bath and had a sandwich in the same place- (They walk into the bathroom) you take baths and eat sandwiches.


ETHAN: Sorry, why are you touring us around the house we’ve lived in for twenty years?


RHONDA: I’m not sure. But I just wanted you to see what Mr. Mailer did in your house.


(Ethan furrows his brow)


KIMBERLY: Well, we appreciate that, but we have our check and would like to get some movers as soon as possible.


RHONDA: Sure, I have a company of shirtless movers who will break literally everything made of glass in your house, let me write their names down.


(Rhonda takes out a business card and pen)


ETHAN: Hold on one second.



ETHAN: Mr. Mailer?


RHONDA: Pardon?


ETHAN: You said Mr. Mailer. Who is Mr. Mailer?


RHONDA: Mr. Mailer is the famous person who owned your house in the late sixties.


ETHAN: I thought it was Andreas Wilson.


RHONDA: Oh! My apologies. Andreas Wilson was his pen name, his real name was Norman Mailer.


(Rhonda begins to write down something on the back of the business card as Ethan’s eyes widen)

ETHAN: Wait a second! (Ethan walks into his kitchen, picks up the letter reading “DON’T TRUST NORMAN MAILER (???)” and comes back) I received this letter yesterday instructing me to “not trust” Norman Mailer! What’s going on here?




RHONDA: Sir, I do not know what that is about. Mr. Mailer is dead and this deal is legit. Where did you receive the letter from?


ETHAN: An address in Rutland, Vermont.


RHONDA: Must be a lunatic and a weird coincidence, then! I think there’s a mad house in Rutland, you know.


ETHAN: Do they let the patients send letters to random strangers though?


RHONDA: They let them have sofas nowadays.


ETHAN: It just seems like too big of a coincidence.


RHONDA: I’ve already given you the money! What’s left for me screw you over on? (There is a knock at the door) I’ll get that-


ETHAN: I’ll get it!


(Ethan, Rhonda and Kimberly walk over and Ethan opens the door to see Evan)


EVAN: Hey, Ethan. Um, we need to talk.


ETHAN: What is it?!


EVAN: I was hoping to make a lunch out of it, but that’s fine, anyway, the surveyors I hired to check on copper levels in your backyard goddamn scrammed and never did it.




EVAN: Yeah, puerile sons of bitches go spooked or something by Halloween decorations and went home to suck their thumbs or something.


KIMBERLY: We might have copper in our backyard?


RHONDA: That has never been proven!


ETHAN: Yeah! Because these assholes ran away! Did you try to convince them to have another go?


EVAN: Yeah! It was fruitless! (Cut to Evan talking to Tim Saylor in his living room) Listen, Tim, you need to get your partner down stairs so you guys can complete this job!


TIM: Do you even have a partner, man?!


EVAN: No, I’m divorced.


TIM: Oh. Congratulations!

EVAN: What-what is wrong with you?! Get your co-host down here!


TIM: He’s crying, he’s not coming down. Want to play Red Rover?


EVAN: Dude, you’re thirty-nine years old!

TIM: That’s okay, you can still come over.


(Cut back)


EVAN: We should’ve just gone with the more expensive option.


ETHAN: Shit, this means our backyard could be a gold mine of…copper!

RHONDA: Very unlikely.


KIMBERLY: Can we get is surveyed before the deal is finalized though?


RHONDA: The deal was finalized! It’s over. There’s no turning back now without risking legal action.


ETHAN: Wait, you won’t agree to relinquish the house to us if Lincoln’s orgasm is back there?!


RHONDA: No, I am not willing to do that. The deal is done. Thanks for playing. You are the weakest link. Is that your final answer? Goodbye.


(Rhonda slams the door on them as they look at each other in shock. Cut to Ryan, Chance, Michael, Oleander and Winslow in Winslow’s computer room, all looking at the computer)


RYAN: This is insane. Burn The Burbs is getting more internet traffic than Pearl Jam’s new album.


CHANCE: Pearl Jam is still a thing?


RYAN: Apparently.




RYAN: Oh, that’s enough.


WINSLOW: When should I put the album back up?


RYAN: When the clamor is deafening.


WINSLOW: Well, I think we have to be careful not to wait too long, otherwise people might lose interest-




WINSLOW: Really?




WINSLOW: Okay, okay, Jesus!

(Winslow gets on his computer)


RYAN: Anyway, I need to go.




RYAN: My parents are selling our house and are mighty pissed about something. Plus, my brother gets out of prison today and I need to pick him up. See ya guys.


OLEANDER: See ya, bro.


MICHAEL: Bye, buddy.




(Ryan pats them all on the back and leaves. Cut to Jacob walking out of prison wearing the clothes he wore when he first went in. He is holding a purple prison outfit. Ryan pulls up in his Corolla. Ryan gets out of the car)


RYAN: Hey, big brother.


JACOB: …Where’s Ethan and Kimberly?


RYAN: They’re dealing with Real Estate issues up in Hansbay and are indisposed. Sorry about that. (Ryan walks over to Jacob) But they send their sincere welcome and can’t wait to see you.


JACOB: Real Estate issues, huh?


RYAN: Yeah, they sold our house.


JACOB: Jesus. What else has changed while I was on the inside?


RYAN: Well, our government descended into anarchy, I released an album, I took LSD-


JACOB: Wow, yet another reason you should’ve been in here rather than me. (Ryan laughs) I’m not joking.


RYAN: I know you aren’t, I just think it’s funny how terrible your luck is.


JACOB: Jesus.


RYAN: Sorry, but for real, I’m glad you’re out. Now you can turn your life around like I have.


JACOB: Like you have? You took acid not, two weeks ago!


RYAN: Right, but that’s not a relapse, because it’s not something I’m going to do often. You know? Plus, I released an album, so that is some life progress right there. And it’s getting traction.


JACOB: Please stop talking about how great your life is.


RYAN: You’re right, we’ll have plenty of time to do that on the drive home!


(Jacob closes his eyes and gets into the passenger seat as Ryan gets in the driver’s seat. He starts the car and loud metal music starts blaring)


JACOB: Jesus!

(Ryan turns it down)


RYAN: Sorry. Aren’t you at least glad to be out of prison?


JACOB: Naw, I think I appreciated the stability, you know?


RYAN: What are ya talkin’ about?


JACOB: I always know where my next meal is going to come from, I have a free gym membership that I still never used and I always knew where my next pack of cigarettes with bits of fecal matter on it is going to come from-


RYAN: You always knew where your next meal was coming from before though-


JACOB: But the cigarette pack with fecal matter-


RYAN: That’s new.


JACOB: Yeah, it’s new. (Jacob and Ryan laugh as Ryan backs up and Jacob lights a cigarette) But no, I’m fuckin’ thrilled to be out of prison. I can finally stretch my legs.


(Jacob inhales and exhales the cigarette)


RYAN: Rather than your-


JACOB: Enough.


RYAN: Come on, man! What’s with the purple jumpsuit?


(Ryan drives out of the prison facility)


JACOB: They let me keep the purple night time fatigues, apparently they fell they were ill-advised.


RYAN: Yeah, I’d say so.


(Cut to Ryan pulling up to the Donahue household. Ryan and Jacob get out of the car to see Ethan and Kimberly standing in the driveway. There are moving PODs everywhere)


JACOB: Wow, what’s going on here?




(They run up and hug Jacob and they all join in a group hug. Noah and Madeline walk over)


NOAH: Is that my golden boy?


(They all turn around to see Noah and Madeline)



(Jacob runs up and hugs Madeline and then shakes hands with Noah)


NOAH: How are you, son?


JACOB: It feels great to be free.


NOAH: How great?


JACOB: Is that really a useful question?


MADELINE: Well, I heard while you were gone, your parents ran into a bit of wealth.


ETHAN: Yes, Jacob. We sold our house for 700,000 dollars.


JACOB: Holy shit! That’s amazing! She paid you 700 grand?!


KIMBERLY: Yes, but she cheated us too, apparently the copper reserves in the backyard could have earned us a million dollars.




ETHAN: Well-wait, how do you know it’s a she?


JACOB: Uh…she was sort of my…girlfriend on the outside.




(Rob walks over with a roll of copper wire)


ROB: Hey! I just found a way to earn us ninety bucks, easy!


(Cut to black)



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