The Donahues Episode 135

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Ryan becomes a brony and develops more ways of coping with the stresses of drug withdrawal, meanwhile, Ryan tells Brennan via mail to keep tabs on Sarah and Michael's burgeoning potential relationship and Jacob uses Tinder to attempt to find female partners

Submitted: December 07, 2013

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Submitted: December 07, 2013

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THE DONAHUES

 

“REHAB PART 2”

 

TV-MA DLS

 

“Infected by drugs and the mushroom cloud. I begin to see and hear things aloud. Seeing visions of future things. Loud and clear as if in an alternative reality they exist, causing my kith and kin to wonder am I in pain or am I insane?”

  • Anuj Tikku

 

(We start with Ryan in a dream sequence riding a Fluttershy the pony from My Little Pony. He is riding her through an open pasture)

 

RYAN: On, Fluttershy! On Pinkie Pie! On Rarity! Applejack!

 

FLUTTERSHY: OH NO, RYAN!

 

(Fluttershy stops in her tracks)

 

RYAN: What is it?!

 

FLUTTERSHY: A pit of snakes! There must be twelve! Or eleven! (Pan to a pit of hundreds of snakes. Suddenly, Fluttershy’s voice is demonic) HUNDREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED!!!!!!

 

RYAN: Don’t worry, Fluttershy! Friendship is magic! I’ll wrestle these bastards. (Ryan jumps into the pit of snakes and starts wrestling one) COME HERE, YOU SERPENT! I WILL NOT LET YOU DESTROY FLUTTERSHY!! SHE’S BASHFUL AND ADORABLE!! (Cut to Ryan in bed in his rehab dorm. He is asleep and is wrestling the arm of his dorm mate as if it is a snake. He’s mumbling in his sleep as well) You will never win, you serpent bitch-

 

DORM MATE: Ryan?! What are you doing?! Stop it!
 

RYAN: I’m wrestling a snake! And I’m winning! So leave me alone!

 

DORM MATE: Leave ME alone!

 

(The dorm mate slaps Ryan awake and he lets go of his arm)

 

RYAN: Wha? What time is it?

 

DORM MATE: Time to wake up. It’s time for group therapy.

 

RYAN: Oh…thanks for waking me, Clay.

 

(Ryan gets up and reveals he’s bottomless)

 

CLAY: Oh, hello, Ryan’s dick, good morning.

 

RYAN: This is how I sleep, get used to it.

 

CLAY: No, I will not.

 

(Ryan puts underwear and pants on.  Cut to Ryan and Clay sitting down at the group therapy session with Doctor Proskovec)

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: I know a lot of you are still going through withdrawal, but except for those who have backslid or quit, which are essentially the same thing in this situation, you’re over the worst of it.

 

CLAY: Every part of this seems like the worst of it.

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: You’re not in the smack house, that place is like a Roman vomitorium. Like, possessed smack addicts, I swear to God they’re speaking Latin.

 

RYAN: I read somewhere that withdrawal is an exercise in futility without treatment.

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: Ryan is absolutely right. Which is why we embrace that.

 

RYAN: You embrace the exercise in futility?

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: No, I mean, we embrace treatment. Recognizing, avoiding and coping with situations where you’ll be tempted to use drugs. For instance, if you are offered drugs, you may be tempted to stick your face in the person’s hand and inhale the drugs while they’re still in the baggie. Let me hear ways you can avoid this.

 

SOME KID: Just saying NO!

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: Good, Blaine.

 

BLAINE: Drugs are for loser Lennies!
 

LENNY: Dude, that’s uncalled for.

 

BLAINE: Sorry, Lenny.

 

RYAN: Blaine, how do you have an elementary school attitude about drugs when you’re a recovering addict?

 

BLAINE: I huffed glue, that’s why I’m here. Started in fourth grade. By the time I was in 10th grade, I realized I had a problem.

 

RYAN: It took you six years of huffing glue to simply recognize you had a problem?

 

BLAINE: How long did it take you?

 

RYAN: It took me two years!

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: Hey, ease up on the cross talk, this is a no-judgment zone.

 

RYAN: I’m just so frustrated, sobriety is supposed to be better, right? Then why do I feel like such shit?

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: Because you’ve spent the last three years raging face and burning out, so now you’re not used to sobriety. Sobriety takes a while to get used to, but as long as you have caffeine, Prozac and mood stabilizers, it’s…nice.

 

CLAY: That doesn’t sound like sobriety.

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: That’s the closest thing we can give you, sorry.

 

(Cut to Ryan, Clay and two other kids sitting in the cafeteria, eating food)

 

CLAY: Goddamn, man, the worst of it is not over for me. I feel pissed all the time and I don’t fucking know why.

 

RYAN: You’re still withdrawing, it’s alright. I’m going through it, too.

 

CLAY: Walker, what is that thing you said some of the patients are doing to get a cheap high?

 

WALKER: The choking game, bro. It’s an arguably better high than shrooms.

 

RYAN: I’ve never tried it.

 

KID: It’s not worth it, Ryan. It just makes you dizzy, don’t even bother.

 

WALKER: Well, another cheap high is pushing that Blaine kid into a fountain.

 

(Clay nearly spits out the water he was drinking. He swallows it)

 

CLAY: Did you do that?!
 

WALKER: Yeah!
 

(Clay spits out water and laughs)

 

CLAY: That’s hilarious!

 

RYAN: I thought you swallowed it!

 

CLAY: What was he doing?

 

WALKER: I don’t know, he said some dumbass thing, like he always does.

 

RYAN: Dude, that seems kind of harsh.

 

WALKER: Fuck Blaine dude, he says Bronies like to “suck pony D”. Which we do, but still!
 

RYAN: That is dickish.

 

WALKER: It’s dickish!

 

CLAY: Dick-esque, if you will.

 

RYAN: I don’t know… (Ryan holds his stomach) oh God…

 

CLAY: What?

 

KID: You okay?

 

RYAN: I’m fine, Vinay. (He slams the table) Goddamn…

 

VINAY: If you’re going to throw up, use an approved bucket or approved Blaine.

 

(They all laugh, except for Ryan)

 

RYAN: No, I’m…fine. (Ryan looks back up) Just had a freak-out moment there.

 

(Ryan starts tapping his fingers)

 

WALKER: I always acted amazingly when I took meth. I would listen to songs I had never heard and sing the lyrics as if I knew them.

 

RYAN: Are you trying to convince me you get super powers when you’re high?

 

WALKER: No, that’s when I’m on PCP. I’m just a psychic when I’m on meth.

 

CLAY: My main objective in life was to try every mainstream drug once. By the time I got to crack, I did not stick to that. I also ended up trying non-mainstream drugs like DMT.

 

RYAN: Fuck DMT. And fuck drugs. Right? Ughh… (Ryan holds his head) come on, Ryan, fuck drugs.

 

WALKER: Are you trying to convince yourself to have sex with drugs?

 

RYAN: At first I was saying “fuck you” to drugs, but yeah, that ended up being the case.

 

(Blaine walks over)

 

BLAINE: Hey guys, can I sit here?

 

RYAN: Fuck off, Blaine.

 

BLAINE: …What did I do?

 

WALKER: You’re a brony hater. And Rainbow Dash hereby expels you.

 

BLAINE: I was just joking, guys. Also, isn’t My Little Pony all about inclusion?

 

RYAN: THERE’S NO FUCKING JOKING! (Ryan slams the table) THIS IS THE ONLY THING THAT GETS US THROUGH THIS! SO GET OUT!

 

(Ryan puts his head on the table and Blaine, on the verge of tears, walks away. The entire cafeteria is staring at them. Cut to Norman Sanford walking out of his house while on his cell phone)

 

NORMAN: (Talking on the phone) Yeah, I get that the Obamacare website is operating at 90% capacity and- (He opens his mail box and takes out mail to look through) there are very few errors anymore, but Americans should think, do they even want health insurance to begin with? And what is health insurance? You can’t feel it, you can’t see it, you don’t need it. (Pause) Yeah. I don’t know when your Medicare check will clear, just be patient. Alright. Love you, Grandma, bye. (Norman hangs up and looks at the mail he got) Bills. (He tosses the bills insolently to the side. But the camera pans over to reveal a bin labeled “very important documents”, where the bills landed) More bills. (He tosses more of those into the bin) Chirstmas cards. (He tosses those insolently into the storm drain) Wasp’s nest. (He tosses a wasp’s nest into the “important documents bin”. But then, he comes upon a letter) Hmm…a letter? What? For…Brennan Sanford?

 

(Cut to Brennan Sanford playing the XBOX 360 in his game room with a headset on)

 

BRENNAN: Do a 360 no-scope with a knife, and then maybe you can borrow Call of Duty.

 

(Norman walks in)

 

NORMAN: Brennan.

 

BRENNAN: What dad?

 

NORMAN: You have a letter, apparently.

 

(Norman holds out a letter)

 

BRENNAN: What are you talking about?

 

NORMAN: You have a handwritten letter addressed to you. It’s not a drug deal under my nose, is it?

 

BRENNAN: Nah, dad, I ain’t about that kind of life anymore. Hold on Clarence. (Brennan takes off his headset and turns to Norman) Let me see it. (Norman hands it to Brennan. Brennan cuts it open and reads the letter) Hm.

 

NORMAN: What?

 

BRENNAN: It’s from Ryan, he’s in residential rehab. Let me finish reading.

 

NORMAN: Do I have to be here?

 

BRENNAN: Absolutely not, go away.

 

NORMAN: Great. Bye, son.

 

(Norman walks away. Jeff walks over)

 

JEFF: Get a letter from your boyfriend?

 

BRENNAN: Yeah, it’s Ry-well, Ryan’s not my boyfriend-

 

JEFF: YOU ALREADY SAID IT!
 

BRENNAN: My God, you’re immature.

 

JEFF: I’m nine, this is a perfectly appropriate level of maturity.

 

BRENNAN: Anyway, Ryan is saying I should keep tabs on the relationship between Sarah and Michael, because he’s “suspicious” that they have a “thing going on” ever since Sarah sent him some letter to him.

 

JEFF: Do it. Michael’s got no right horning up on Ryan’s bitch.

 

BRENNAN: First of all, that’s sexist, secondly, Ryan and Sarah are broken up, so, it’s actually Ryan who has no right to horn in on Sarah’s decisions.

 

JEFF: He’s not asking you to sabotage them, just to keep an eye on them.

 

BRENNAN: …That’s true.

 

JEFF: Do it. You’re his friend, right? Do what’s right, friend.

 

BRENNAN: Why do you care?

 

JEFF: Think of me as the devil on your shoulder.

 

BRENNAN: Then who’s the angel?

 

JEFF: Kiefer Sutherland.

 

BRENNAN: That’s such a random person.

 

(Cut to Brennan, Sarah, Michael and Eric sitting in a corner of the lunch room. Eric has a bunch of ketchup packets and is putting ketchup on piece of chicken)

 

MICHAEL: Bro, you have like forty ketchup packets.

 

ERIC: I have a lot of chicken…nuqqa!

 

BRENNAN: (Mumbling) That’s my thing.

 

SARAH: Think of all the poor, poor chickens that were slaughtered for that chicken.

 

BRENNAN: Think of the goddamn ketchup packets you’re wasting! Look! You’re not even getting an entire packet’s worth out of each one!

 

ERIC: Yeah I am!

 

(Brennan takes an open ketchup packet)

 

BRENNAN: Look! (He starts squeezing it and ketchup continually comes out) There’s so much left!

 

ERIC: I don’t like that bottom of the packet shit, the last half is usually back wash.

 

BRENNAN: It’s still going NUQQA!

 

MICHAEL: That’s actually amazing.

 

SARAH: You’re getting ketchup all over the ground, by the way.

 

(The ketchup packet runs out)

 

BRENNAN: So much chicken could’ve been ketchuped just then.

 

(Brennan throws the packet in the garbage)

 

ERIC: Where’s Coin, by the way?

 

BRENNAN: She was last seen in Gilford, New Hampshire, what about everybody else though, Sarah, how are you holding up since Ryan went off to rehab?

 

SARAH: Uh, I’ve been okay. I miss him, but I’m mostly just glad that he’s trying to get better.

 

MICHAEL: Meanwhile, she’s trying to change me too.

 

(Sarah giggles and when she does that, we briefly cut to a shot of a “giggle-ometer” in Michael’s pocket that fluctuates wildly, then cut back to Sarah)

 

SARAH: Yeah I’ve made a deal with him that I’d eat vegetables if he got more sleep.

 

MICHAEL: Which would be easier if I had a job with better fucking hours.

 

ERIC: Where do you work again?

 

MICHAEL: Best Buy. They’re not like Walmart, which at least sets out bins so people can donate canned goods to them.

 

SARAH: Oh yeah, so charitable. And it’s cheaper than paying them a higher wage.

 

BRENNAN: Also, only other Walmart employees can donate the canned goods to one another so it sort of defeats the purpose.

 

MICHAEL: They should cut out the middle man and just make Walmart employees resort to cannibalizing one another.

 

(Sarah laughs, which makes Brennan’s “giggle-ometer” fluctuate again)

 

ERIC: What’s that noise?

 

MICHAEL: Hold on. (Michael checks his phone) Oh, it’s 1:40. Well, this is our off block.

 

SARAH: So I guess we’ll see you guys later?

 

BRENNAN: Where are you two going?

 

SARAH: Just…home.

 

ERIC: Bullshit.

 

(Michael laughs)

 

MICHAEL: No, for real, the roads are icing up, we’re probably not even having school tomorrow, so we’re just going to head home before it gets too bad. Have fun with school or whatever.

 

BRENNAN: Sure thing.

 

SARAH: Bye!

 

(Michael and Sarah put on jackets and beanies and walk out the back doors of the school)

 

BRENNAN: My God, they’re so obvious about this.

 

ERIC: I know, right? No one been this obvious about their attraction since that stripper I met at a Mormon youth retreat.

 

BRENNAN: Wow, you people are corrupt.

 

ERIC: Yeah. Her name was Cimmanon.

 

BRENNAN: You mean cinnamon?

 

ERIC: Nope. Her name was legit Cimmanon. By the way, where was that weird fluctuation noise I was hearing?

 

BRENNAN: Oh. (Brennan takes out the “giggle-ometer”) Ryan is having me keeps tabs on the relationship between Michael and Sarah, so I made this giggle-ometer to measure how potent Sarah’s giggles are.

 

ERIC: How the hell does that work?

 

BRENNAN: It doesn’t, it’s just a radon detector.

 

ERIC: Oh, good. (Pause) Wait, it was going off?

 

(Cut to Sarah and Michael walking up to a tree yard. An older black man walks over)

 

OLDER BLACK MAN: Hello there, welcome to Parker Brothers Tree Emporium! Open all year long for any holiday-related pine tree needs!

 

MICHAEL: That’s just Christmas…right?

 

OLDER BLACK MAN: We also have Halloween pine trees, Independence Day pine trees and others, ass.

 

SARAH: Whoa. I’m here to buy a tree, friend. Give me a mid-size green spruce, if you would.

 

OLDER BLACK MAN: Alright, let me show you around. We just got the 2014s in. (He opens up the gate in front of them and they walk into a yard of full trees) We have trees big and small, wide and tall, and like I said, for ALL holidays-

 

(They pass by a fire damaged tree)

 

SARAH: Whoa, stop! (They all stop and turn toward the blackened tree) I want that!

 

OLDER BLACK MAN: That’s a fire-damaged tree, ma’am.

 

SARAH: No, sir. (Sarah turns to him) It’s emotionally damaged.

 

MICHAEL: You’re getting an emo tree?

 

(Sarah starts chewing on her pinky while smiling)

 

SARAH: Yeah.

 

OLDER BLACK MAN: Alright. I’ll sell it for five bucks. (Sarah hands him a five dollar bill) Thanks. Joel, help these people with this tree.

 

(Joel, an older version of Sarah’s ex-boyfriend depicted in TDEP109, walks over)

 

MICHAEL: Speaking of which.

 

SARAH: Joel!

 

JOEL: Sarah!
 

(Sarah hugs Joel, and then detaches from him)

 

SARAH: You work here?

 

JOEL: Yeah.

 

SARAH: You live in Rutland, right?

 

JOEL: Yeah, it’s a long drive.

 

SARAH: No kidding. How’s school?

 

MICHAEL: Sarah, I have work after this.

 

SARAH: Oh, sorry. Well, it was nice seeing you, Joel. I’ll contact you on Facebook.

 

JOEL: Totally. Bye.

 

SARAH: Bye!

 

MICHAEL: What do you mean? He’s still helping us with the tree, right?

 

JOEL: Oh yeah.

 

(Cut to Jacob walking around his apartment with Madeline)

 

JACOB: So, this is my place.

 

MADELINE: It’s not bad, Jacob.

 

JACOB: Yeah, I guess not. Certainly better than my last living situation. (Madeline laughs as Jacob sits on his coffee table) Although there is this douchebag who lives in an apartment complex right across the way who revs his motor cycle at all hours of the night and day. Never seen him ride the thing.

 

(Ethan walks in)

 

ETHAN: Where do you want the end table?

 

JACOB: By the couch is fine. But yeah, I hope this is okay.

 

ETHAN: You know what, it isn’t. I’ve decided that after hauling a coffee table all the way here that it isn’t okay for you to have it.

 

(Jacob and Madeline laugh)

 

JACOB: I appreciate it.

 

MADELINE: Yeah, dad didn’t have room for it in his new house, and I certainly have enough furniture.

 

ETHAN: One of you help me haul this son of a bitch up these unevenly spaced stairs.

 

JACOB: Yeah, I’ve fallen between steps before, almost landed on my neighbor’s wife.

 

MADELINE: Jesus. (Jacob and Madeline get up and walk outside Jacob’s apartment and walk down the steps. Madeline stands by as Ethan and Jacob lift each side of the end table and start hauling it up the stairs) I’ll just watch then.

 

ETHAN: Pay attention to the steps behind you, there could be gaps or areas where you could trip, TURN!

 

(Ethan and Jacob place it on the landing)

 

JACOB: Okay, let’s…push it up there.

 

ETHAN: …No!

 

JACOB: How are we going to avoid the gap then?

 

ETHAN: We’ll toss it on two, I guess. (Cut to Ethan, Madeline and Jacob sitting in Jacob’s living room. Ethan is drinking a beer) Just another day’s work, I guess.

 

(Madeline is checking her phone)

 

MADELINE: Wow. Nelson Mandela just died.

 

ETHAN: Really?

 

JACOB: He was a great man.

 

ETHAN: Absolutely. He’s desegregating heaven now.

 

MADELINE: Heaven was segregated?

 

ETHAN: It is a gated community.

 

JACOB: Can I pour out your beer for Nelson Mandela?

 

ETHAN: No, this is my beer. This beer is mine.

 

JACOB: The greatest person ever just died, and you can’t spare your beer for him?

 

ETHAN: Don’t put me on blast today. Nelson Mandela died, I’m in no mood.

 

JACOB: By the way, what brings you to the Burlington-Hansbay SEXtroplex, Maddie?

 

MADELINE: Yeah, I have seen a lot of hookers while I’ve been here.

 

ETHAN: I’m glad you picked a nice area.

 

MADELINE: Anyway, Aedesh and I came down for a protest against sexism. There’s a bank in Hansbay that straight-up told a female employee she wasn’t earning as much as men because she’s a woman.

 

ETHAN: And the Feminazis come marching in.

 

MADELINE: Come on, dad you know that’s unfair!

 

ETHAN: Men are breadwinners more often, Maddie.

 

MADELINE: That’s not relevant, plus, forty percent of breadwinners are female.

 

JACOB: Yeah, I’ve heard that.

 

ETHAN: Jacob, your apartment doesn’t smell as much like smoke anymore.

 

JACOB: Yeah, my bitch neighbor called me out about it. Plus, my friend urged me to quit out of solidarity with Ryan.

 

MADELINE: Right there, Jacob, you just called some girl a bitch! That’s casual sexism, it’s dehumanizing her!

 

JACOB: It was actually a guy, Maddie, he was just acting like a bitch.

 

MADELINE: So he was acting like a woman, and that implies that women are somehow inherently bad?

 

JACOB: No, it just…stop being a bitch.

 

MADELINE: This is exactly what I’m talking about.

 

ETHAN: This is nitpicky.

 

MADELINE: “Bitch” and “cunt” are just the same as the N-word, they’re just used to oppress different groups of people.

 

ETHAN: Fine, I’ll play along to your feminist bullshit, can we say “slut”?

 

MADELINE: No, not really.

 

ETHAN: Then what do we call a sexually licentious woman?

 

MADELINE: I don’t know, how about a “sexually licentious woman”?

 

JACOB: That doesn’t roll off the tongue like SLUT!

 

ETHAN: That SLUT rolled off my tongue.

 

JACOB: Ho ho!

 

(Jacob and Ethan shake hands)

 

MADELINE: Oh my God, it’s demeaning. And so are a lot of things about our society, we have rape culture, we have slut shaming and superficiality running rampant. Judging women based on appearances exclusively and the media’s unrealistic expectations of beauty causes low self-esteem, suicides, you name it.

 

JACOB: Does it cause Rhino stampedes?

 

MADELINE: Okay, yeah, it doesn’t cause that, Jacob!

 

ETHAN: You see, I always thought sexism was over when women got the right to vote over ninety years ago. Or at least that’s what the RNC tweeted at me.

 

MADELINE: Ugh…don’t we have to go?

 

ETHAN: Yeah, we do. I have to go back to work. (Ethan stands up and shakes hands with Jacob) It smells like weed in here.

 

JACOB: That girl downstairs hasn’t uh… (Madeline looks at him) complained about that yet.

 

ETHAN: Ah. Okay. Got it. Bye son.

 

(Ethan and Madeline leave Jacob’s apartment. Omar comes out of his room with his hair all messed up and wearing baggy pajamas)

 

OMAR: Who the hell was here?

 

JACOB: Dude, it’s like 3:45.

 

OMAR: I was hiding in my room all that time waiting for those people to be gone! You know how nerve-wracking that is?

 

JACOB: It was my dad and my sister.

 

OMAR: How old’s your sister? Her muffled voice sounded hot. And the way she walked around, it sounded like she was wearing “fuck me” pumps.

 

JACOB: HEY! (Jacob turns around) Don’t fucking talk about my sister that way.

 

OMAR: Dude, chill, I was just joking.

 

JACOB: I don’t care.

 

OMAR: Fine, man. Sorry. Anyway, I have to get ready for a Tinder date.

 

JACOB: A what?

 

OMAR: A Tinder date.

 

JACOB: The fuck is that?

 

OMAR: Bro, you’ve never heard of Tinder?

 

JACOB: No…

 

(Omar walks over to Jacob and pulls out his iPhone and shows him the Tinder app)

 

OMAR: It’s an app that uses your Facebook information and your preference in partners and then shows you pictures, ages, names and brief descriptions of girls and if you like them you can swipe right and if you don’t like them, you can swipe left. If you swipe right and she swipes right on you, you have a match. And you can talk to her, maybe arrange date or a place to hook up. If you swipe left, it ends there.

 

JACOB: Goddamn. That sounds…amazing.

 

OMAR: It is. You should get it on your phone.

 

JACOB: Well gee, an app as amazing as that must cost over two thousand dollars.

 

OMAR: What if I told you that it’s free?

 

JACOB: Get outta town!

 

OMAR: Download it!

 

JACOB: Alright.

 

(Jacob takes out his phone. Cut to Ryan standing over a small, man-made pond in the lobby of the rehab facility. He sees his reflection in it. He reaches into his pocket only to realize he has no phone)

 

RYAN: Damnit. Would’ve made a perfect snap chat.

 

(Ryan hears some commotion going on several feet away from him and looks over to see some of his brony friends are picking on some kid)

 

WALKER: Hey kid, where the fuck do you think you’re going?

 

KID: There’s a therapy meeting in room twelve, I figured it would be easier to go through the lobby.

 

CLAY: You thought WRONG, kid. There’s a tax to be collected. Think of it as a pony tariff.

 

RYAN: Oh my God…

 

KID: I don’t have a pony.

 

CLAY: It’s a pony-IMPOSED tariff. Ass. It’s a price of doing business.

 

KID: My business is to get better.

 

CLAY: YOU THINK THAT ISN’T OUR BUSINESS TOO?!

 

(Clay grabs the kid’s shirt)

 

KID: I KNOW! IT’S YOUR BUSINESS TOO! I GET THAT!

 

WALKER: Then support the business.

 

(An employee of the clinic walks out of a nearby door)

 

EMPLOYEE: Excuse me. (She presses the elevator button. The elevator opens, she gets on it and the kid looks into the elevator, but Clay shakes his head) You four play nice now.

 

(The elevator shuts)

 

VINAY: Come on, you pony-less piece of shit. Pay up.

 

KID: How do you know I’m not a brony?

 

WALKER: You’ve spoken to Blaine before. The Hitler of brony haters.

 

CLAY: To him, friendship is not magic. It’s Judaism.

 

WALKER: The worst kind of magic. Jew magic.

 

KID: That, in itself is anti-Semitic.

 

VINAY: GIVE US THE CASH YOU WORTHLESS FAGGOT!

 

KID: YOU’RE JUST GONNA USE IT FOR DRUGS!

 

WALKER: HE’S FUCKIN’ JUDGING US!

 

(Ryan looks over to the receptionist and sees she is wearing noise-cancelling headphones. She looks over to Ryan)

 

RECEPTIONIST: BEATS BY DRE!

 

RYAN: Ah. Well there’s about to be beats by brony over there in a second.

 

RECEPTIONIST: WHAT?

 

RYAN: …Nevermind. (Ryan looks over to see all the brony bullies are gone, and the kid is crying. He goes up in the elevator. Ryan hesitates to follow him at first, but then goes for it) Hold that elevator! (The elevator closes before he can get to it) Goddamnit! (He presses the button again and waits. Once the elevator comes back down, it opens up to reveal a black man in a hoodie holding several wads of cash) You’re not exactly being discreet about that, bro.

 

(The black man holds his finger to his mouth)

 

BLACK MAN: Shhh, nigga, I’m sellin’ drugs.

 

RYAN: I know.

 

(He walks out of the elevator and hands Ryan a slip of paper)

 

BLACK MAN; Follow me on Instagram.

 

(He walks out of the building as Ryan shakes his head. Cut to Ryan sitting on the couch in the activities room the next day. He is looking at that black drug dealer’s Instagram on one of the computers. He has tons of pictures of him holding wads of cash while holding his finger to his mouth)

 

RYAN: Wow.

 

(Pan over to Clay and Walker playing Connect Four)

 

CLAY: Ryan, play Connect Four with us.

 

(Clay sniffs)

 

WALKER: It’s fuckin’ amazing, isn’t it? How the fuck do they stay in there?! Let me see if I can drop it  while jumping. (Walker jumps up and drops a Connect Four piece and it lands perfectly in) FUCK YEAH!!

 

CLAY: MY BOY!

 

(Walker and Clay high-five, hug, make out a bit and then sit down and sniff to each other)

 

RYAN: You guys are so coked up. At least I’m still trying.

 

CLAY: Fuck, dude, you’re as judgmental as that fuckin’ kid!

 

(Ryan turns around. He has bags under his eyes)

 

RYAN: Oh, you mean the one you STOLE from yesterday?!

 

WALKER: Bro, you look like shit.

 

RYAN: Yeah, withdrawal symptoms include insomnia, but so does cocaine use, so I guess it doesn’t matter what I do.

 

CLAY: That kid was against our people, dude. I don’t feel bad. He’s not a team player.

 

(Doctor Proskovec walks in)

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: Attention, patients. (They all look at Doctor Proskovec) I have some… (He wipes a tear away from his eye) very unfortunate news. Eshan Scroggins was found dead this morning.

 

(Everybody gasps. Ryan closes his eyes)

 

RYAN: Dear Christ.

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: It appears to have been self-inflicted.

 

CLAY: Oh my God, who was he?

 

(Doctor Proskovec points to a picture of the kid Clay, Walker and Vinay bullied on the wall. Ryan starts bawling while Walker and Clay look at one another in shock and despair. Ryan runs outside)

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: RYAN, NO!

 

(Doctor Proskovec runs after him. By the time he’s outside, he’s seeing the coroners taking a body with a sheet over it out of one of the residential dorms)

 

RYAN: Oh no…that should be me.

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: You want to be a coroner when you grow up?

 

RYAN: Jesus, Doctor.

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: Ryan. (He turns Ryan towards him) This is not your fault! He did this to himself!

 

RYAN: …I didn’t stop it, either. Doctor, this place has put me in a way worse position than I ever was in when I was doing drugs.

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: Ryan, you don’t want to test that boundary.

 

RYAN: Oh, I know that.

 

(Ryan walks away, leaving Doctor Proskovec confused. Cut to Michael’s car going down the road. There is a tree tied to the top of it and Michael’s emergency lights are on. Cut to Michael and Sarah in the front seats. Michael is playing heavy metal while Sarah looks out the back window)

 

SARAH: Are you supposed to have your emergency lights on when transporting a tree?

 

MICHAEL: Aren’t you?

 

SARAH: If you’re an idiot, then yeah.

 

MICHAEL: Whatever, I thought it was custom.

 

SARAH: What are you warning people of? That you have a tree? It’s readily apparent.

 

MICHAEL: If it slides off, they’ll know.

 

(Sarah looks forward)

 

SARAH: I guess. I don’t think you’ve held up your side of the bargain, by the way.

 

MICHAEL: Yeah, I’m tired, but you haven’t either.

 

SARAH: Yeah I have!
 

MICHAEL: When’s the last time you had a vegetable?

 

SARAH: I had onions the other day.

 

MICHAEL: OoOoOoOh!!! You had a single onion string!! You’re at the PENNACLE of health now!
 

(Sarah laughs)

 

SARAH: It’s progress! If you want me to eat more vegetables, you need to get more sleep.

 

MICHAEL: I have a job Sarah, I sometimes work until ten or eleven.

 

SARAH: And then you stay up until three. So, that’s not really an excuse.

 

MICHAEL: Because I don’t like sleep until I’m going to literally die without it. Thank God they’re probably cancelling school tomorrow.

 

SARAH: Yeah. By the way, when your family brings your Christmas tree home, I could certainly tell Irville to help you with it.

 

MICHAEL: No, we’re not having a Christmas tree.

 

SARAH: Oh, you’re just getting a small tree, then?

 

MICHAEL: No, we’re not getting a tree. Sarah, you don’t seem to understand, we’re not having a Christmas.

 

SARAH: …What?

 

MICHAEL: Yeah. I’m too poor to have a Christmas. My mom said we’re not having a Christmas the other night. And she made it hurt too. She threw a Santa’s hat in the oven and it started burning, well, until our power was shut off.

 

SARAH: Shit, you guys can’t afford power?!

 

MICHAEL: We got the payment in this morning, but the point is, money is tight. That’s why I got a job, that’s why Miranda’s searching for sweat shops in the area.

 

SARAH: God…sorry, I didn’t know the situation was that desperate.

 

MICHAEL: …It wasn’t always this way. My dad was a banker at one point. We had a HUGE house. But then the Great Recession hit and he lost his job, he had to pay off a boat, and all this bullshit.

 

SARAH: That sucks. You can have Christmas with us.

 

MICHAEL: I’m not just gonna abandon my family on Christmas, I’d feel like a pleb.

 

SARAH: Fine, uh…hey! Maybe you, Joel and I should hang out some time.

 

MICHAEL: …Do I have to?

 

SARAH: Why wouldn’t you want to?

 

MICHAEL: I don’t know, Joel has always seemed like a big douche pleb to me.

 

SARAH: What? He is the nicest guy!

 

MICHAEL: He just, he thinks he’s so cute and it’s like, get over yourself.

 

SARAH: Oh, come on!

 

MICHAEL: He dated Cynthia once, you know.

 

SARAH: Your ex?

 

MICHAEL: Yep.

 

SARAH: Shit, are you really bitter about that?

 

MICHAEL: It was like a week after Cynthia and I broke up! How do you think that makes me feel?

 

SARAH: Michael, we’re emos! We all operate in the same circle! We’re bound to date each other’s ex-girlfriends and boyfriends every once in a while!

 

(Michael smirks)

 

MICHAEL: Is that so?

 

SARAH: …Sometimes, yeah.

 

MICHAEL …Alright. Just checkin’.

 

(Cut to Michael, Sarah, Brennan and Eric standing in the snow outside Sarah’s house the next day)

 

BRENNAN: It’s a Christmas miracle!
 

MICHAEL: What is?

 

BRENNAN: I don’t know.

 

ERIC: It’s a Christmas miracle that my bishop is on vacation and I have the keys to his house! (Eric takes out a set of keys) Nuqqa!

 

MICHAEL: HOLY SHIT.

 

SARAH: Why do you have your Mormon bishop’s keys?!

 

ERIC: I work for him, and he gave me the keys so I could keep after the place, feed his dogs and ward off potential intruders. Like, I don’t know, YOU lucky nuqqas!

 

BRENNAN: You’re not only stealing my word, you’re using it way too much.

 

ERIC: Okay, Brennan’s not invited!

 

BRENNAN: Nuh, nuh, nuh, it’s fine! I take it back!

 

ERIC: Good. Let’s make a fun ass night out of this snow day, huh? He lives on Cripple Creek. Michael, can you get boozey-witz?

 

MICHAEL: Yeah. I have a connection.

 

SARAH: Hey, can Joel come?

 

MICHAEL: Sarah! Remember Ryan’s party five months ago? We can’t invite a bunch of people or we’re going to be eating the snow with boots on our backs!

 

BRENNAN: That’s a good point.

 

SARAH: It’s just one guy! I’ll tell him not to invite anyone else! You’re just forbidding him because you hate him!

 

MICHAEL: That is NOT…the only reason.

 

ERIC: HEY! Break it up! This is my decision, in the end. I will consider both arguments.

 

SARAH: Do we get to state our cases?

 

ERIC: No, you’ve already done that. I am an unbiased third party because I’ve only blown Joel once.

 

MICHAEL: Jesus…

 

(Eric thinks for a few seconds)

 

ERIC: Joel’s not invited.

 

MICHAEL: YES!

 

SARAH: Ughhh…

 

(Cut to Michael and Sarah sitting on the bishop’s couch. Michael has a drink in hand)

 

MICHAEL: It really isn’t personal, Sarah.

 

SARAH: You pretty much already admitted it was personal-you know, it’s alright, whatever.

 

MICHAEL: Good. I’m glad we reached that conclusion.

 

(Eric comes in wearing a fencing outfit)

 

ERIC: Look what I found in his closet!
 

(Brennan comes in and they all laugh)

 

SARAH: He’s a fencer?

 

ERIC: Nah, these are his underwear! And this- (He takes out a rapier sword) is kinky shit!

 

MICHAEL: Yeah, I bet. How are you a Mormon again?

 

ERIC: I don’t know, if my parents let me, I would experiment with Catholicism. The Pope recently denounced the commercialization of Christmas, trickle-down economics and capitalism in general! I mean, this is the best Pope EVER!

 

SARAH: Yeah and suddenly, to the religious right, the Pope is far from infallible. There are even rumors that he disguises himself as a normal bishop during the night.

 

ERIC: Shit, maybe my bishop is Pope Francis. Maybe he’s infiltrating other religions to convince me to convert. And he’s doing a good job, because I am not a fan of the doctrine on alcohol or not being able to ride a motorcycle around neighborhoods and not being able to do wheelies to convince people to convert.

 

BRENNAN; The point is, Catholics have a socialist Night Club fiend who likes to wash people’s feet and play dress-up, he’s essentially the Marilyn Manson of the Catholic Church.

 

SARAH: Yeah, well, his brand of Catholicism IS the new shit.

 

ERIC: Is somebody going to sword fight with me?

 

BRENNAN: I will gladly sword fight with you.

 

ERIC: Not in the conventional manner, I’m guessing?

 

BRENNAN: Does that underwear have a dick hole?

 

(They all laugh. Cut to Jacob lying on his couch in his apartment. He is unshaven and disheveled. Omar walks into the apartment)

 

OMAR: Dude, you’ve been tindering non-stop for two days! You missed a beautiful snow the other night.

 

JACOB: I need to get a match, Omar!

 

OMAR: You need to get a shower.

 

JACOB: I will once I get a Tinder date-HOLY SHIT! (Jacob jumps up) I MATCHED!

 

(Cut to Jacob, who has now shaven and showered and is wearing a collared plaid shirt, knocking on some girls’ apartment door. The girl, a tan brunette, opens up wearing a t-shirt and jeans)

 

GIRL: Hey, Jacob, right?

 

JACOB: Yeah. Quinn, right?

 

QUINN: Yeah. I’m so glad we matched, you’re the first guy who didn’t immediately ask me for nudes.

 

JACOB: Yeah, I don’t immediately.

 

QUINN: Come in.

 

JACOB: Cool. (Jacob walks in and sees a strawberry blonde girl on her couch. Jacob appears to recognize her) Oh. Hi, Ashlin.

 

(Ashlin holds her mouth to keep from laughing, making Jacob uncomfortable)

 

QUINN: What?

 

JACOB: Nothing. Ashlin and I dated briefly in junior year.

 

(Ashlin starts laughing)

 

ASHLIN: I’m sorry! I can’t help myself!

 

JACOB: Please help yourself, I swear to God.

 

ASHLIN: We had been dating for five months and I remember, I offered to blow him-

 

JACOB: Ashlin.

 

ASHLIN: And he REFUSED. Straight-up refused to let me. He just wanted me to HOLD him!

 

(Quinn giggles)

 

QUINN: What? Are you gay or something?

 

JACOB: Jesus, this is brutal. Look, can you just print out the nudes and let me leave? (Cut to Jacob having the door slammed in his face. He turns around) Oh, so now I’M the bad guy. I’ll show those fucking sluts. (Jacob walks down the stairs to the parking lot of Quinn’s apartment complex) I was seventeen years old, maybe I wanted to take it slow. Or, maybe I never liked that cunt to begin with. She flashed me once. (Jacob stops walking) It actually made me uncomfortable. I was young! Shy, even. (Jacob gets in his car and breathes heavily. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his glove box and sticks a cigarette in his mouth and lights it. He inhales and exhales) At times I just wanted to…blend into the background. (He takes another drag, and then his phone beeps. He checks it) Oh, wow. Another match. What’s her name? Cimmanon? Jesus. I think I have higher standards than that. (Cut to Jacob walking into his apartment to see his TV is missing) Goddamnit. (Jacob barges into Omar’s room. Omar has the TV on his wall) Dude!

 

OMAR: What?

 

JACOB: I need the TV, why can’t you watch it out there?

 

OMAR: I thought you were on a date, I was going to jerk it to Skinemax or Blowtime. Or Real Time with Bill Maher.

 

JACOB: The date…fell through. She was busy, when I got there. Her grandma had a heart attack or something.

 

OMAR: Jesus. Sorry to hear that.

 

JACOB: I’m taking this. (Jacob takes the TV off the wall and lugs it in the living room and puts it on the wall in there. He sits on the couch and turns it on to see an ad showing an old Abbot and Costello routine)

 

COSTELLO: Who’s on first?

 

ABBOTT: Who is on first.

 

COSTELLO: That’s what I’m asking you, sir.

 

ANNOUNCER: The dynamic duos of the 1930s and 40s entertainment are absolutely timeless and hilarious. And now you can own a DVD combo pack of the best of all these comedy duos, be they Abbot and Costello, Laurel and Hardy or Cane and Able. Who could forget that classic Cain and Abel comedy routine, “You Have the Jaw of an Ass”.

 

(Cut to a 1930s double act on stage)

 

ABEL: I have to say Cain, you have the Jaw of an ass!

 

(The audience laughs)

 

CAIN: That’s right, you son of a bitch!
 

(Cain takes the jawbone of an ass and brutally beats Cain to death with it)

 

ANNOUNCER: ORDER NOW!
 

(Omar comes in. Jacob is looking at Cimmanon’s picture on his Tinder)

 

OMAR: Hey.

 

JACOB: Hey. (Omar goes into the kitchen area to use the coffee machine) Hey Omar.

 

OMAR: What?

 

JACOB: If you could have sex with anybody, who would you-

 

OMAR: Lorde.

 

JACOB: Wow, that was, quick.

 

OMAR: Yeah, she’s hot as fuck. I’d call her “green bean” though, just to piss her off. (Jacob laughs. Jacob walks into the kitchen and goes through the cabinet and gets out a handle of Crown Royal) What are you doin’?

 

JACOB: This is the beauty of no on-campus housing.

 

OMAR: Still, what are you doing?

 

JACOB: It’s a Saturday night! Let’s get turnt!

 

OMAR: Ugh, don’t say that.

 

JACOB: Sorry.

 

OMAR: I can’t get drunk tonight. I’m getting an early start tomorrow morning. I have to drive to New Hampshire for a court appearance.

 

JACOB: On a Sunday?

 

OMAR: Yep. New Hampshire people, man. Anyway, tell me when this coffee is ready.

 

(Omar goes into his room. Jacob takes out the coffee pot. He then pours some Crown Royal into some Coca-Cola. Cut to Cimmanon the “Stripper” sitting in a hotel. Her white pimp is sitting nearby. She is a tall Latino girl smoking a cigarette)

 

PIMP: Yo, bitch, they don’t allow smoking in here.

 

CIMMANON: Well they ain’t allow pimpin’ neither, now do they?

 

PIMP: This ain’t pimpin’. This is Tinder. Tinder has desperate people, this sad motherfucker will pay if you stand ya ground.

 

CIMMANON: Ain’t exactly what my ass been brought up to do.

 

PIMP: Sure it be. You just gotta have some self-confidence, ya worthless whore.

 

CIMMANON: I’m a stripper, Eddie! And fuck you!

 

(A knock is heard at the door)

 

PIMP: (Whispering) Alright, go get ‘em!

 

(The Pimp goes into the next room)

 

CIMMANON: Coming!
 

(Cimmanon gets up and opens the door to see a drunk Jacob)

 

JACOB: Hello, Cinnamon.

 

CIMMANON: It’s Cimmanon.

 

JACOB: ‘Course.

 

CIMMANON: Come on in.

 

(Jacob stumbles in and Cimmanon shuts the door)

 

JACOB: Why the hotel room? Do you not, not, have a uh…homes?

 

(Jacob turns around)

 

CIMMANON: It’s fifty for an hour, a hundred for two.

 

JACOB: …What?

 

CIMMANON: Honey, dis ain’t no regular Tinder date. I’m gonna needs cash.

 

JACOB: …Oh. (He pauses to think) To be honest, this probably is a regular Tinder date. (Jacob takes out his wallet and takes out two twenties and a ten and hands it to her) There.

 

CIMMANON: Alright. (She puts the money on the desk) What you want me to do?

 

JACOB: Whatever you want, Green Bean.

 

CIMMANON: My daddy call me dat, please don’t.

 

JACOB: Fair enough.

 

CIMMANON: I’ll blow you to begin wit, how dat?

 

JACOB: …Dat fine. (Jacob sits on the couch and Cimmanon pulls down his pants and underwear and starts blowing him) Ohhhh….oh shit….fuck, that’s good.

 

(Cut to Jacob and Cimmanon having vaginal sex on the hotel room bed)

 

CIMMANON: Your cock. Your cock. Your cock.

 

JACOB: SHUT THE FUCK UP!

 

(Cut to Blaine sitting alone in the cafeteria at the rehab clinic. Ryan walks over and sits next to him)

 

RYAN: Hey.

 

BLAINE: The fuck do you want?

 

RYAN: I want to be able to live with myself.

 

BLAINE: I’m not sure how you already manage that.

 

RYAN: I did not ever do a thing to that young man who did himself in. I want to make that clear. But I do feel incredibly contrite that I did, blow up at you.  I did something that was, tantamount to bullying. And I looked the other way on others bullying you. And for that, I’m truly sorry. We’re all dealing with incredible stress and some of us, myself included, do not deal with in the healthiest way possible.

 

BLAINE: Well, I accept your apology.

 

RYAN: I appreciate that.

 

BLAINE: Although I’m sort of wondering, where are your brony buds today?

 

(Blaine points at an empty lunch table)

 

RYAN: They’re probably dealing with too much grief and guilt to come out at the moment.

 

BLAINE: …You sure about that?

 

RYAN: …What?

 

BLAINE: I noticed it last night. I could’ve prevented it. But I didn’t.

 

RYAN: …Oh, Jesus.

 

(Ryan runs out of the cafeteria and into the residential area. Several coroners are bringing three dead bodies covered in sheets out of two separate lodges. Doctor Proskovec walks over)

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: Ryan, go back inside.

 

RYAN: Fuck, ARE THOSE CLAY, WALKER AND VINAY?!

 

DOCTOR PROSKOVEC: YES! NOW GO BACK INSIDE!
 

RYAN: Oh my God.

 

(Ryan runs away. Cut to Brennan, Michael, Sarah and Eric in Eric’s bishop’s kitchen. They are all drinking, except for Brennan)

 

MICHAEL: (Slurred speech) I don’t fuckin’ know man, like, ever since I joined Ryan’s band, I have always preferred the second half of his debut album to the first.

 

ERIC: Me too, actually.

 

BRENNAN: Why’s that? I like “Proof of Purchase” and “Normally You’re Better” more than I like most A7X songs.

 

MICHAEL: I don’t know, the second half of DHF’s album is much heavier and angry-like, while the first half is, like, whiny and sad like.

 

SARAH: You don’t appreciate a good sad song?

 

MICHAEL: No, believe it or not, I don’t like to feel sad!

 

SARAH: I don’t know, sad songs can be a bitter sweet emotional catharsis for me.

 

MICHAEL: I want anger. I want rage.

 

ERIC: Do you like Rage Against the Machine?

 

MICHAEL: Fuck that band.

 

SARAH, ERIC AND BRENNAN: AGREED!

 

SARAH: So let me ask you this, do you only get catharsis from feelings of anger in music or just from feelings of anger in general?

 

MICHAEL: …Here’s the straight dope. And I probably wouldn’t say this if I wasn’t drunk. I think, deep down, I’m a sad person, but I use anger to replace that sadness because it’s more of a RELEASE for me…

 

SARAH: …Wow. That was, very honest.

 

MICHAEL: …They say a drunken word is a sober thought.

 

ERIC: Then what is a drunken vomit? A sober sneeze?

 

(They all laugh)

 

MICHAEL: Yeah, I guess…I don’t know, I feel like a dick. I don’t really have anything REALLY against Joel, I’m just…petty and small. My life sucks, I want to lay down on the carpet.

 

(Michael walks over and lays down on the carpet. Sarah, Eric and Brennan walk into the living room)

 

BRENNAN: What are you doin’ nuqqa?

 

MICHAEL: Your preacher has dope-ass carpets, Eric.

 

ERIC: They’re the perfect carpets to roll on. Speaking of which, (Eric takes out a bag of ecstasy) who wants to roll?

 

SARAH: Eric!

 

ERIC: Oh yeah, sorry.

 

(Eric puts away his X)

 

MICHAEL: Sarah, come and be a carpet dweller with me, pleeaassee!!

 

(Sarah rubs her eyes)

 

SARAH: I’ll be in the restroom.

 

(Sarah walks past Michael and into the bathroom. Michael sits up)

 

MICHAEL: Where’d she go?

 

BRENNAN: To the bathroom, bud.

 

MICHAEL: Goddamnit, I have to be at work in four hours.

 

(Brennan looks at his phone)

 

BRENNAN: It’s 1am!

 

MICHAEL: Yeah, I know…night.

 

(Michael lies back down. Cut to Brennan the next day at his desk in his room. He is writing a letter on a piece of paper. He thinks for a moment and then writes “Dear Ryan, from my observations, I have determined that there doesn’t seem to be any potential for a romantic relationship between Michael Bingaman and Sarah Blumenthal. Hang in there, nuqqa. Send me post cards. Signed, Brennan Sanford, December 7, 2013”. He picks up the letter and puts it in an envelope)

 

BRENNAN: …Uhh…how do I make this go to him? Pneumatic tube?

 

(Cut to Jacob walking up the stairs to his apartment door early in the morning. He drops his keys through the huge gap in the stairs)

 

JACOB: Goddamnit.

 

(He shrugs and walks up to the apartment door and knocks on it. An obese twenty year old girl opens the door wearing a large t-shirt and pajama pants)

 

TWENTY YEAR OLD OBESE GIRL: Hi.

 

JACOB: Uh…who are you?

 

TWENTY YEAR OLD OBESE GIRL: I’m Krystal, you must be Omar’s roommate.

 

JACOB: …Yeah, I am. May I come in?

 

KRYSTAL: It’s your apartment.

 

JACOB: …’Kay…the move.

 

KRSYTAL: Oh, sorry. (Krystal moves and Jacob walks in. Omar comes out of his room) I’m gonna get going, Omar. Bye.

 

OMAR: Bye, sweetie.

 

KRYSTAL: Nice meeting you, Jacob.

 

JACOB: Yes, you too. (Krystal leaves and shuts the door behind her) Who was that?

 

OMAR: Surprise Tinder match. Anyway, I have to get ready to drive to New Hampshire. Where were you all night?

 

JACOB: …Nowhere. Just out.

 

OMAR: …Alright. I’ll be in the shower.

 

(Omar walks into his bathroom and closes the door. Jacob walks into his bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. He closes the door, lights a cigarette and then blows the smoke into the mirror. Cut to Ryan walking out into the lobby of the Clara Martin Center and jumping into the indoor pond. He is shown with his eyes closed under water, floating. Fade to black)

 

THE END


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