I went to three Home Depots to buy toilet seats for Reggie's school.
Jesus Christ.
- Do I have to go to therapy? - Not if you don't want to.
- Here. Take my picture! - Why?
Happy thoughts.
For my beautiful young friend.
- I love you, sweetie. - What are you doing?
Time to shake things up. Piggy-back ride.
- We can't go where they're going! - Open door's an invitation.
Gotta jump while the door's open!
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And she was gone.
I don't understand. Where did she go?
- She's coming back, right? - I don't know.
Why do I keep losing all the things and people that I care about?
That's what life is, peanut.
Since the dawn of man,
we've yearned to emulate a bird's ability to break free from its earthly bonds,
you know, fly like an eagle. Whatever.
You may soar to metaphorical heights,
but none of us really has wings and gravity never really lets up.
All things come back to earth.
There seems to be a gravity for relationships, too.
No matter how high they fly, they always seem to find their way.
Well, they find their way back home.
- Good afternoon. - Afternoon.
- Have I done something wrong? - I can't tell. She's not talking to me.
Are you not talking to him?
Oh, bloody hell.
- Diet Coke, chipped ice, but not too much. - I think this is about Betty.
I think George has somehow implicated me in Betty's disappearance.
- Am I right or am I right? - Can you pass me the ketchup?
- How you doing? - I don't think so.
That's all you want, the ketchup? 'Cause ketchup I can handle.
But the guilt trip about Betty, that I cannot.
I don't know where Betty is.
- Erm, hello, I'm Mason. - I don't... think so.
- What does that mean? - She hates you.
I'm sorry about your friend. Reapers come and go - that's life.
I missed Betty like crazy.
I had 1,001 questions and I didn't know where to begin.
Where was she? Was she OK? Was she coming back?
What did Rube know?
Somebody had to ask him these questions. Hopefully, that person will be along soon.
- This isn't chipped ice. - All we've got is cubes.
Well, if you have cubes and an ice pick, then you have chipped.
- Do you, Casey, have an ice pick? - Yeah. A nice one.
Well, then, I think we need to start over.
You see that Diet Coke? That's on me.
- I'm Mason. - You're a fucking moron.
- Is your name Rube? - It is.
- Well, I'm Daisy. Daisy Adair. - You're two days early, Daisy Adair.
Well, aren't you lucky?
This is Mason. As we know.
And this is George. Daisy's one of us. Daisy's a reaper.
George. Is that your given name?
- Georgia. - That's much prettier. I'll call you Georgia.
I hated her instantly, with all my guts.
- What is she doing here? - She was transferred.
- From? - New York. SoHo.
- Why were you transferred? - Well, that's kind of personal.
- One Diet Coke, chipped ice. - Thank you so much, Casey.
So, Daisy... Now, seriously, that Diet Coke is on me.
Agh!
Excuse me, Miss, I need a refill.
I hated her a little less.
Oh. I'll come back.
- You just came in. - Forget about it, I'll go downstairs.
Wanna take a bath? There's plenty of room in here.
Um, I'm grading papers. I just had to pee.
I'll give you your privacy.
You never used to be pee-shy.
You can't talk to me. Barely make eye contact with me.
Where are you, Clancy?
I'm in the middle of grading papers, Joy. That's where I am.
Good luck with that.
- I have got 20 papers to read. They all suck. - Reggie's principal called.
What? Is she stealing more toilet seats?
Just a routine call, he said. Whenever a student has three absences in a row.
Wanted to know if Reggie was better.
- Reggie hasn't been sick. - No.
Not fever, runny nose, stuffy head, can't-get-out-of-bed sick.
- Where the hell's she going? - To therapy.
Don't you think that we ought to talk to her, before...?
We? As in you, who's never here,
and me, whose lap all this crap gets dumped on?
In. You dump something in your lap.
Are you gonna pee or what?
This was the first time I'd lived alone. I liked it.
At first it was a little too quiet, but then the quiet became my friend.
Georgia? It's Daisy, Daisy Adair.
- Fuck me. - I heard that! Open the door, Georgia.
- Evening, roomie. - What do you mean, "roomie"?
Rube said I should bunk with you
till I find something more... suitable.
Here. It's a housewarming/thank you gift.
- Wood chips? - No, silly goose, it's potpourri.
It's English Garden.
You're not quite ready for home accents. Haven't had time to decorate.
It's sort of low on my list of priorities.
You collecting bodies as well as souls here?
- Oh, Raoul. Poor, stupid thing. - Raoul?
Homeless gentleman. Drunk as a sailor but strong upper body.
You know, Daisy, this is a pretty small apartment.
It really is. Here is the fiver we discussed.
And one cocktail. Ready?
Whoo! Sorry.
I treasure the time we spent together
but you and your smelly self really must be going.
Whee!
- Mason, be a doll and fetch me that handbag. - Anything for you, gorgeous.
Was this whole bunking thing really Rube's idea?
'Cause I don't see him doing that to me.
Georgia, if I may be so inquisitive, how did you die?
- Why do you ask? - Well, you seem a little irritated.
I got hit by a toilet seat that fell from the Soviet space station.
Oh, my God, you're Toilet Seat Girl? No wonder you're so annoyed!
- Well, I guess we're both famous. - Well, Daisy, how did you die?
During the making of Gone With The Wind. I am an actress.
- No way. - Yes, siree.
Things had been going very well.
The star of the movie and I had become quite the item.
Hang on. You and Clark Gable?
I was young and didn't know what I was doing.
- Sounds like you did. - No, I didn't.
I was under the table, blowing this tall, handsome man
and someone leaned over and whispered in my ear, "No, that's Clark Gable."
So who were you blowing?
I don't know! It's such a huge cast. Someone from the confederacy, I think.
But enough about me. Let's talk about where I'm putting my stuff.
What's happening at school today?
I don't know. Wednesday.
- What is Wednesday? Art or music? - Gym.
Well, don't you think you should wear your... tennis shoes?
- They're too tight. - They fit you just fine.
- So, art was yesterday? - Mm-hm.
Oh. Did you bring it home?
No. I didn't... It wasn't dry yet.
Oh. OK. I'd really love to see it.
Mr Schiffer wants to put them up in the classroom.
Reggie, I need to ask you something.
What do you want for breakfast?
- I have to brush my teeth. - Ocupado!
Do you work for a living? Because I do and I have to be there on time.
That sounds dreadful.
You know, Daisy, I have a job. I mean, what do you do?
I'm going to buy the New York Times, since you don't have it delivered.
Then I'm going to have a green tea and a muffin and then look for a sweater set.
This afternoon, if I'm so obligated, I'm going to collect someone's soul.
And if I look really pretty when I'm doing it, good for me. That's what I do, Georgia.
- You sure you don't want a ride? - No.
- I have time. - I like to walk.
OK. Well, have a great day.
# A-boom ba
- # Can you hear my heart beat in this hurt? - # A-boom ba
- # Do you know that behind of this hurt - # A-boom ba
# Lies the deep desire I'm in love, hey
# Make a wonderful love if I may
# A-boom ba
# Can you hear my heart beat in this hurt?
# Do you know that behind... #
Jesus fucking Christ!
# Lies the deep desire I'm in love, hey
# Make a wonderful love if I may #
I think I can handle this myself.
When I saw you kicking it I figured you might need some help.
We have a call-out service on this machine.
What happened to you?
- I slept funny. - You need a body pillow.
I bought mine when I thought I was pregnant. I sleep like a baby.
Aha! There's the bandit.
Well! I guess we'll keep you.
She'll hold together for another day.
Does Information Services know they have a Renaissance man on their hands?
"The geeks shall inherit the earth."
I'm sure you've heard Jimmy's being transferred.
- What?! - I wasn't even consulted.
Really chaps my hide.
Is Jimmy the guy with the lunch box from Data Processing?
- That's Jim. - Jimmy, in Supply Distribution.
- Lanky. Sideburns unequal lengths. - Has a spastic colon or something.
- This is a nightmare. - Don't panic. We will survive this.
- Oh! The guy who orders the highlighters. - And bowls a 210.
If 15-30 hours a week of tedious tasks wasn't enough,
the Happy Time Cobras were always an option.
You're hot tonight, Jimmy! Whoo-hoo!
- You don't bowl, do you, Millie? - No. Uh-uh.
When I had my cocaine problem, bowling helped in ways you cannot imagine.
- Russ could play. - No, Russ is a showboat.
- His handicap is single digits. - He's a P-R-I-C-K, Michael.
It's a quality-of-life issue.
- You never bowled? - You know, when I was a kid.
Marty's good. It's just a matter of wheelchair access.
My gut says Millie may be our answer.
- What? - We'll make it work.
A team isn't the sum of its parts, it's a karma thing.
Remember Sahid and how he screwed us over? Punjab motherfucker.
I've made my decision. Let the others know.
Delores... Delores, I'm not joining the bowling team.
It's not about you, sweetie.
Then why am I feeling like it's going to be me who's renting the shoes?
It's about your substance abuse problem.
Ah, the rehab lie, back to bite me in the ass again.
Think of it as two and a half hours a week where you won't think about sucking blow
through a bendy straw of a fast-food rest-room sink.
What's with you? Hey. Is there a new cook in the kitchen?
No.
- Over easy was... uneasy today. - You want more eggs?
No, I was looking at curing the disease, not the symptoms. Forget it.
- How are you lovebirds? - It was brilliant to throw us in the same pot.
Georgia here, she's sweeter than a harvest peach.
What happened to your neck?
Well, I didn't have a... pillow last night.
We'll work it all out, won't we, sweetie?
Who was complaining about the eggs?
- Oh, no complaints, just observations. - Such as?
The eggs are not good.
It's normally a moot point at the à la carte price of $2.95.
I love eggs. I love 'em fried, scrambled, boiled, Florentine. These I didn't love.
So who do we blame, the hen or the cook?
Let's blame the hen.
He's a nice guy.
Peanut, why don't you tag along with our leading lady today?
I really don't think I need a chaperone any more.
I know. But she does.
"Obsessed with toiletries." Do you mean cosmetics, personal hygiene items?
She's obsessed with a toilet tree.
A tree. Full of toilet seats.
OK. Good.
George was killed by a toilet seat.
- You miss your sister? - I was told there'd be cookies.
Mary Wolpert went to a shrink and there were Fig Newtons and hot chocolate.
I'm sorry, Reggie, we don't do that here.
Do I have to set my house on fire for a snack?
How does your family honour Georgia's memory?
We had a funeral, of course.
And when the headstone is ready,
I'll guess we'll, you know, put it on her... grave.
Reggie, it's not yours. Put that down.
It's OK. You like to play with your sister's things?
Did your sister not let you touch her stuff?
- She packed 'em all up. - Just... clothes!
- Books. Odds and ends. - The rest you sold at a yard sale.
I'm supposed to save every scrap?
You must have photos of George in the house.
Objects that serve as reminders help us to remember stories and invite questions.
Reggie steals toilet seats and brings home dead animals.
Do you think slapping up photos is gonna stop that?
I think it would be more productive if I talked to Reggie alone today.
Fine.
- Are you here to see Dr Plotkin? - You mean Dr Hanson?
Right, Hanson. Plotkin's my podiatrist.
Don't know why I was thinking about Plotkin.
Must have been staring at my foot.
- Are you here to see Dr Hanson? - I've got the next appointment.
- She's a child psychologist. - Inner child.
Excuse me.
- Do you have the correct time? - It's five after two.
Thank you.
If you don't mind me prying, why is your child seeing a psychologist?
Her sister's... sudden death has traumatised her.
She's been unable to... too stubborn to move on.
I just don't get our culture's obsession with moving on.
I mean, what are we afraid of? Being sad? Remembering?
Are you familiar with the talking-drum people of Nigeria?
- No. - They do this dance...
Man, it is... it is something.
.. where they invite their ancestors into their bodies.
And they dance as if they were them.
You got young girls dancing like... old men.
You got boys dancing like grandmothers.
And believe me, it is... it is anything but sad.
I'm supposed to be meeting someone here. You wouldn't know a person called...?
Is there any way to get that pure water delivered to one's home?
- Just call 555 THIRSTY. - You got a card?
Oh, thank you. You're a lifesaver.
Norman. What's your last name? So you get the commission.
- Plotkin, but we don't work on commission. - Oh, I guess it doesn't matter.
Good luck with your daughter. Dance with her sometime. Conjure up the old spirits.
Who's your mama?
Live it! Yeah! Baby!
Whoo-hoo!
OK, George, ready to bowl?
Let's go and get you some shoes.
OK, size seven and a half and a kid's one.
- They smell funny. - That's bowling.
It's all hot inside.
Yeah, the kid who wore those last was really fat.
I'll take 'em.
Yee! Hi, Millie!
You know everybody, right?
- Hey. - Hi, Millie.
Where's your ball, dear?
Oh. I didn't bring it.
OK. Well... how about we go pick you out one?
Karen, you can work on your cross-alley throw.
- How do you misplace a ball? - She doesn't have one.
Fuck! We're gonna get our asses kicked.
It's not gonna pick you.
Why don't you get a feel for one?
- I have a black ebonite Omega LM. - I like green.
- Who's up? - Delores, we know you mean well...
- You've never steered us wrong. - But she's gonna ruin everything.
- Is this some kind of coup? - Your pins are one point each, too.
- We don't want her to play. - Excuse me.
It seemed the most important rule of my life was equally valuable in death:
quit before you're fired.
- I can just keep score. - No! No. Really?
I bet you can still get your shoe-money back.
Peace at last.
Maybe Daisy was out blowing the rich and famous.
Well! You are late.
- I was going to... - Going to...?
I can't sleep on that chair again, Daisy.
I know. I felt absolutely awful about that.
- And... - And...?
Someone went on a tear at the mall today
and guess who purchased you your very own pillow?
Remember when we first talked
we said we were going to... share the bed?
- We were going to switch off. - Switch off?
The bed. You said we were going to switch.
Good God.
It's as if your tongue is just flapping loose in your mouth.
- Didn't anyone ever teach you diction? - Um...
Switch. "The witches switch swatches." Say it.
- I... - The witches switch swatches.
- Say it three times fast. - The witches switch swatches.
Almost whistle that "sw". The witches switch swatches.
- The witches switch swatches. - Faster.
The witches switch swatches. The witches switch swatches.
There, that's the way! Oh, George, you're such a quick study. Good for you.
We'll work on it again tomorrow. Nighty-night.
OK, good night.
Maybe some day, when computers get big enough and can keep track of the universe,
we'll see that everything balances out.
For every death, there is a birth,
for every tear spilled, there's a smile.
Stop joining teams, Russ, you're running out of room.
I'm temping at three different places and each one's got a bowling team.
You make up your mind yet?
No, not yet. What's popular?
Anything patriotic. Uncle Sam, Statue of Liberty.
One lady wanted the World Trade Center, tower on each cheek. Go figure.
- What's that bloke getting? - Cobra.
- Yeah? Mind if I come and look? - Be my guest.
Oh, yeah. Yeah. Very nice work.
Listen, I can't really decide what I want, so I'll come back.
OK.
- It's a very pretty flower. - He gave me an iris.
- It doesn't matter to me. - I'm the one with it on my ass.
Willy, I'll change my name to Iris.
We wouldn't be Willy and Lily then, would we?
I asked for a lily and this shit-for-brains gave me a fucking iris!
Tattoo this, asshole!
One day you're here, the next you're not.
- Shit! Delores, you scared me. - Are you all right?
Yeah, I just didn't know anyone was here.
It's 10pm. What are you doing here?
Well, I can't really... go home.
I... was just doing some... filing.
I understand. I've been... filing, too.
It's hard to know where to put this.
- Yeah. - I never even got to see him bowl.
I heard he bowled a perfect game once.
Did he? Damn!
Well, he's bowling for another team now.
Yes. He is.
You know, I think his cubicle is a little bigger than mine.
'Cause it's filled with love.
You wanna steal something, don't you?
- What? - Do you want his mug?
- Uh, no, that's creepy. - Why?
Everybody needs to steal a bit of someone they love.
- I hardly knew him. - You shared an office.
Drank from the same water cooler. Stood under the same fluorescent lights.
- Take something. - I have a mug.
Well, it can be anything. What reminds you of Russ?
Just a piece of that somebody in remembrance,
a tangible connection to who that person was to you.
I took that little quartz duck he had.
That just screamed "Russ" to me.
God damn, she's selling my shit!
OK.
- I'll take this. - His monitor squeegee.
- Yeah. Russ's... monitor squeegee. - Oh, that is so Russ!
OK. Uh...
Daisy's like an oil spill that just keeps creeping further and further into my life.
- OK. - I haven't really slept in two days.
- It's your apartment, right? - Tell her that.
- You tell her. - She doesn't listen.
You're not speaking loud enough.
You didn't get me a place. Why did you tell her to stay with me?
- I hoped you'd hit it off. - I'd like to hit her.
- Can't you just talk to her? - All right, fine.
Really?
No. I'm not getting between two women fighting over some crappy apartment.
My crappy apartment. Mine. Who does she think she is?
She thinks she's someone. She senses you don't.
- I don't think she's someone? - That you don't think you're someone.
You wanna be a bowling pin your whole life and be knocked down again and again?
Or would you rather be the ball?
I gotta tell you, being the ball feels a hell of a lot better.
Yes!
- Daisy's a ball, you're a pin. - I am not.
Whatever you say, peanut. You're not a pin.
Play another. You can get back at me.
Pin therapy.
Nice way to work out a little aggression.
I want these.
- They're not gonna fit. - Yes, they will.
- See? They're too tight. - I don't care.
The Cotonio Memorial Bowling Tournament?
We placed second in the mother-daughter competition.
You and George?
- She blew that last frame. - I never saw George bowl.
She was a great athlete. But your sister didn't like team sports.
I am not a fucking pin.
Hm. What do you know?
Daisy? Listen, I have some things I wanna say to you.
You can't just move your shit into my apartment
and kick me out of my own bed...
I never, ever get a break.
My mother abandoned me, my... father was never a father.
I never really had a real home or even a place that I felt like I belonged.
Why can't I belong?
Why can't you accept me?
I just want you to...
.. hold me.
This life has been a collection of... disappointments and...
.. heartache.
And... scene!
".. a collection of problems, disillusionment and unhappiness."
Why do I always mutilate that line?
Will you be a doll and help me learn my lines?
Please don't be afraid to stop me if I'm even off by one syllable. OK?
OK. And... action.
Why can I never get a break?
Reggie, it's time for bed.
Jesus Christ.
Reggie, we talked about unpacking a few of George's things.
We didn't talk about turning your bedroom into a holy shrine.
- It's not. - This is not a shrine?
No.
It's my room.
- Mom? - Yes, Reggie?
Get out.
- Yeah! - Yeah!
- They're ahead by nine pins. - Nine to tie, ten to win.
You do the best you can. That's all that matters.
This is exactly why I never joined a team.
Bullshit camaraderie leads to bullshit pressure.
Come on, Millie! A strike and we beat these motherfuckers.
Oh, crap! Did I TiVo Iron Chef?
Should we go to Chili's later? I could suck back some ribs.
Miss. Miss. Miss. She's kinda hot.
And bullshit pressure builds to a moment of paralysing fear.
It's bizarre what goes through your head, standing frozen in a moment of sheer panic.
And my thought was "Why did I die?"
Or more to the point, "Why didn't I live?"
Why didn't I move? Why did I just stand there like a bowling pin?
Cotonio Memorial Bowling Tournament
What made me so dead set against having an experience?
Why didn't I talk to the people who liked me?
Why didn't I ever talk to my little sister?
Why didn't I live when I could have?
Aw, shit!
- You did it! - I did it!
I felt something I had never felt before.
A hand on my ass. Who the hell was cupping my ass?
Probably that perv from IS.
Oh, God, I hope it was that perv from IS.
I also felt something else,
that in some strange, undead way, I was alive.
I was flying.
Subtitles: Jane Luchford ww. broadcasttext. com
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