Advertise your product or brand here contact www.OpenSubtitles.org today
Some allegedly clever writer once wrote
that death was the big sleep.
Big sleep, my ass.
Seriously, what a crock that guy was peddling.
I was finding what had happened to me harder and harder to handle at night.
Night-time had become the enemy.
Maybe taking souls for a living,
taking souls from the living,
was finally taking its toll on me.
Fuck it!
I guess watching someone die had its way of staying with you.
Death was a fragrance that lingered long after that person has left the room.
Here we see a zebra,
grazing in a meadow and other flora in the region.
I would try to distract myself.
I would try to think about something other than death. Anything.
The lion lives off the zebra...
.. as part of the circle of life, the way of the jungle.
The distractions were, like me, short-lived.
See you later, dude.
There was no real escape.
It's one o'clock in the fucking morning. What's so fucking important for fuck's sake?
Can you use that word one more time?
- I was out like a light when you called. - You weren't.
I heard your microwave ding in the background. What were you heating up?
I like popcorn. I like to watch old black-and-white movies and eat popcorn.
- I was in some of those movies. - Which ones?
Oh... Too many to recount.
A lot of background, like so many of us...
.. but memorable.
I was beautiful.
I'm sure you were brilliant.
Can I get some coffee, please?
Kiffany, make a fresh pot. We're here awhile.
Oh, please tell me those are not what I think they are.
It is. They are.
- Time for your self-evaluations. - Again?
I don't believe this.
Please. It's one o'clock in the morning. I do have a life.
One o'clock's about the right time. You're not so well defended at night.
OK, look... As always, multiple choice in the test books, essays in the blue books.
Mason, please write legibly. There were complaints last year.
That's ridiculous. I always have high marks for penmanship.
You write like you speak. I could barely understand a word.
Oh, you know what? In all honesty, I was on something when I filled out my form last year.
- Are you on something tonight? - No.
For real?
- Well, a little bit. - Rube, I think there's been a mistake.
I completed one of these in New York just before I left, so I don't need to be here.
You know the difference between a New York hotdog and a Chicago hotdog?
- I don't eat... - The New York has mustard, ketchup,
served with a tomato-based onion relish.
In Chicago, it's... It's a great fucking town. It comes on a poppy-seed bun,
mustard, emerald relish,
tomatoes, pickles, onions, celery salt...
.. then you got chilli peppers.
It is a very different experience.
I wouldn't eat either of those.
Death, Daisy...
.. it has a different quality in New York...
.. as it does in Chicago, New Orleans,
Destin, Florida,
Lusk, Wyoming... everywhere.
Death is just a little different than it is here.
Whoever's gonna read this wants to know if you're right for this town.
If you don't want to be here, they'll find some other place for you.
OK. You have an hour for section one
or as much time as you need.
I'm here. You guys are over here. Come on. Let's go.
Take everything with you.
- Here, take this. - So you're aware,
this is some freeze-dried bullshit.
The clock's running, OK?
Wasting my time!
I need more drugs.
Bet they're all asleep.
The essay questions are the same as last year, so...
Sweet.
This one's different. "If your life were a colour, what would it be?"
Black.
No... pink.
You folks better simmer down and start thinking.
Writing.
- There are three essay questions. - No. Tell me there are not three, please.
And the short answers are in two parts.
Sharpen another pencil and I'm breaking one in your little pink ass.
OK. Triple espresso?
Peanut butter protein shake
and tomato juice with lemon and ginseng.
Wow, you guys are up too, huh?
Shh!
- What are you doing? - Georgia, go away.
- Did you get together to vote me off the island? - Get the fuck out while you still can.
Daisy, give me my pencil back.
- Get off! - How many souls did you take last month?
A lot. Like, over 40.
Wow!
- You must be exhausted. - To the bone, baby.
The next Post-it he gives me gets shoved up his butt. No disrespect, but I am T-I-R-E-D.
There's no hobnobbing. It's not a debutante party.
Separate booths, OK? Let's go.
Georgia, come here, please.
Georgia!
- Have a seat. Why are you here? - I couldn't sleep.
- Why is everyone taking a test and I'm not? - I think I'll take up painting.
What are they doing?
Their self-evaluations.
Maybe watercolour to start.
Maybe acrylic.
- Why are you here? - I could not fall asleep.
Why am I not doing what they're doing?
You're doing what you're doing. When it's time to do something else, you'll do that.
I want to learn to paint. I need a mentor.
As you can imagine, all the good ones are dead.
You don't think that I could do a self-evaluation?
I am a very impressive young worker. Ask anyone at Happy Time.
Ask Delores. She really loves me.
- You're very well liked here. - I am?
Absolutely. How do you feel about filing?
I like the way you show initiative. I like it a lot.
I'd better watch my back. You'll have my job.
I envy you. Collating is so Zen.
Isn't responsibility fun?
I went through a rough patch at your age. It was the '80s and everyone was doing cocaine.
Hi! How's The Little Engine That Could?
My heart... swells with such pride!
This isn't Happy Time, sweetheart.
- You don't do one this time around. - Why?
- Because you don't. - Why?
- You just don't. - Why?
"Why?" That's a question.
Want to split a carrot muffin?
No? Fine.
I'll do it alone.
Take Monet. Impressionist.
Here's his painting of Rouen Cathedral.
Stunning.
But at the same time, it doesn't convey the atmospheric reality of the cathedral.
It's more like a dream of the cathedral.
Eyes on your own work.
So I have to ask, do I want to paint dreams? Do I, Georgia?
I don't know. I don't care.
Why can't I take the test?
Can I get some coffee, please?
I could paint dreams.
I could really eat a muffin.
T-bone steak and eggs, T-bone medium-rare, eggs over-easy,
toast instead of hash browns and syrup for the pancakes.
Do not skimp on the butter. And some bacon, extra crispy.
I'll never understand the instinct to miniaturise food.
- It's bite-size. - It's not bite-size.
I can't eat this. Now I'm sticky. Can I have a napkin?
- You ate three. - I didn't. Thank you.
As an undead person, I have certain privileges. For instance, I have a physical body.
I can enjoy the sweet deliciousness of this tasty key lime pie.
Don't you want your bacon?
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.
You don't know what a patty melt is?
"Patty melt" defines what it is and how it's prepared.
- The cheese is melted on the patty. - I like the cheese melted on the bread.
That'd be a bread melt or grilled cheese.
Corned beef hash. I speak for myself and for aficionados of the dish:
it's to be fried with a crisp exterior.
I do not say this phrase lightly in this hallowed place...
.. but this is fucking inedible.
A dish is a collection of flavours, consistencies.
You start swapping ingredients in this mélange, you're fucking with a Jenga tower of taste.
Can I get a carrot muffin on the grill, extra butter?
"What are the gifts that you bring to your organisation?"
Hmm...
You know your problem? You're always wondering what the world's going to do for you,
wondering who's gonna kiss your ass and make you happy,
when you should just thank God for another day.
You can take the lighter one...
Sir, I'm gonna say this as politely as possible: I will fuck you up.
Do I need to be crossing over, passing on or something?
You ain't goin' nowhere until I fill my quota.
Let me tell you something. I am trying to do my job.
If you fuck with me, there are skills I can employ
that would give your life a turn for the painful.
These brats egged my car. I was gonna beat their ass.
Then this bitch comes up to me: 25-dollar ticket. "So? Pay the damn ticket!"
This has been a fucked-up week.
No nonsense...
.. comfortable with firearms...
.. and I know Kung Fu.
"What, in your previous experience,
would help you to convince the living that you are one of them?"
I am a sucker for platinum.
I had Dorothy's original bike from The Wizard of Oz. I knew someone from the props department.
You mean you blew somebody in the props department.
Knew, blew... tomayto, tomahto.
I once gave Errol Flynn a hand job in a convertible.
That's a nice story.
The star of the movie and I were quite the item.
Hang on. You and Clark Gable?
Uh-huh. I was under the craft services table, blowing this tall, handsome man,
then someone whispered in my ear, "No, that's Clark Gable."
- I did once blow Babe Ruth. - Who didn't?
- So who were you blowing? - I don't know!
It was such a huge cast. A Confederate, I think.
Did you ever sleep with a dwarf?
Don't be stupid. They're cartoons.
"I... am... an... actress."
"What kind of coping skills do you possess in pressure situations?"
Move.
All right, pull your pants down and bend over. You have to lean into me.
Are you high?
I've got illegals in my bottom.
- Why do you do this to yourself? - I don't know!
Do you consider yourself to be exceptionally reasonable or exceptionally kind?
Exceptionally kind. I'm not particularly reasonable.
Ah! Ah!
- Where are you going? - I'm getting the fuck out of here!
"Poised under pressure."
Daisy, another writing instrument, please.
Pencil.
You should paint like these guys, like Impressionists.
You're eating my muffin. Is it good?
Mmm. It's really good.
As remarkable as they are, I don't want to paint them.
Why? Too much light?
I'd rather do something a little darker.
Maybe a nightscape.
Hold on.
Now, there we have something.
Edward Hopper.
Look at you.
I'm dead, I'm not stupid.
She reminds me of Daisy.
Daisy's not this contemplative.
You're wrong.
I live with her. I watch her sometimes when she doesn't think anyone's looking.
She's sad about something.
Nighthawks.
I wonder what they're thinking about.
Oi, come here.
- Probably themselves. - I don't know. Maybe someone else.
Something else.
I'll be right back.
"Which of the following best describes the ideal workplace?"
- What? - Wait. "A: a nurse in an emergency room,
B: a lifeguard at the beach, C: a night watchman in an industrial park?"
- Is there a problem? - No.
I was just thanking Kiffany for the beverage.
The lifeguard. You sit on your ass and just make sure everything's OK. That'd be nice.
What? What did...? Lifeguard?
Kiffany, I've got a lot of work to do here.
In all honesty, I cannot sit here and discuss whatever axe you have to grind with lifeguards.
One warning, Mason. Consider yourself warned.
She's piss-drunk. Look at her. She's hammered.
Looks like they're thinking about something they lost.
No, no, no...
Hopper's the guy.
Why are they taking this test at night?
- And why are you here? - Why are you here?
I can't sleep.
I have a job this morning.
I have to go.
Oh.
- Want company? - No.
I don't mind, really. It's not like I'm doing anything.
Oi... What did you put for number 12?
Where is it, the job?
Oh, motherfuck...
Jesus. Fucking test...
It's 3851 Beatrice Lane.
- It's not your Post-it. - That's my old house, where my family is!
I'm aware.
Well... who is it?
It's not your Post-it.
- There are rules, Georgia. - What is going to happen in my driveway?
It's not your driveway any more.
- You know what I mean. - I do...
.. but it's not your driveway any more.
- Then I'm coming with you. - That's not going to happen.
Someone dies at my house, and you don't tell me about it?
What the fuck is wrong with you?!
Everything all right?
Everything's fine. Another sliver of pecan pie for my friend here.
Warm it up. Thanks.
Whoever's on this Post-it, you can't do anything about it. Now sit your ass down...
.. now.
Excuse me?
What's the first thought that enters your head when you finish a job?
- What? - What is the first thought
that enters your head when you...
when you finish a job?
I...
I hope they're happy.
Wow!
That's lovely.
This is so supremely fucked up.
It's late. You're tired.
What is this? Why are you doing this to me?
I didn't decide someone's gonna die on your driveway.
It's not always about you, Georgia.
Why don't you have a little piece of pie, take a look at this book?
Take a look at the paintings.
The world is a very big place...
.. and you, young lady, are not the centre of it.
Fuck your book...
.. and fuck your world.
You have a problem with the rules, young lady, which means you have a problem with me.
Better yet,
I have got a problem with you.
Well, you really fucked the dog, peanut.
I didn't make an appointment.
You had an appointment.
Correct me if I'm wrong but... mission accomplished.
You're wrong. That was me correcting you.
Um... I forgot to tell you, my last guy didn't show up. Just thought you might want to know.
- What's the soup today? - Cream of bullshit.
- You piss me off too. - I piss you off?
Do me a favour, pretend you've rethought this little lie.
You've had an epiphany, grown the fuck up.
Life and death can be simple. Just do what I tell you.
Stay on his good side. He's like a volcano, George.
He erupts and spews lava,
and all the little villagers, they run around for their lives.
But he stops and you can go back to the safety of your own home.
How long is he gonna stay mad?
- Do you not like me any more? - Not this minute.
You're a constipator. You disturb my shit.
Do you really care how it's going with me?
Sure. I make my face look like this, and the concerned words come out.
You're a real... dickweed.
What you're feeling right now, the rage and frustration all knotted together,
binding everything from your head to your digestive tract, that's my life with you.
- You have a problem with me? - Yes, ma'am, I do.
And one thing you should know about me by now,
I am a problem-solver.
How do I put this delicately?
Does this concern you?
Try and choose your words carefully.
Blow me.
I wasn't scared of Rube.
I wasn't much scared of anything. I was a reaper.
I was near death all the time.
But now, tonight, this morning,
it was in my front yard.
Who was going to die in my driveway?
One Arnold Palmer.
Thank you.
Like I said, thank you.
Do you need anything else?
Um... No, I'm cool with my lemonade iced-tea mixture here.
I meant, do you need help?
Wh... What do you mean, do I need help?
Oh, the others,
the other two, they seemed to need help.
With the questions.
I know things.
Uh...
I'm cool by myself.
But thank you.
Mason!
Fucking cheater!
I'm leaving.
I'll be back.
- Just try to be honest. - OK.
Not for me. I don't really care.
Go back to bed, Mom.
- Can you balance, George? - Mom, I can do this. Hands off!
I'm doing it! I'm doing it!
I'm never coming back!
This sucks!
Georgia, you are not six years old.
18 years of coddling is enough for you, young lady.
If you think you can spend your life suckling at my retirement fund,
you've got another thing coming.
Get out of bed and go to work.
You will collect a pay check and you will move out of this house. Understood?
How did your daughter die?
I don't want to have this conversation with you.
Well... what was she like?
Why do you care?
I just think it's cool she had the doll.
Frankenfruity is the shit.
She drove me crazy, to tell the truth.
What?
She was stubborn.
I think that's only because she was smart.
Probably too smart.
She figured a lot of things out way before her friends, that's for sure.
We never really got along.
I don't think I was a very good mother.
I actually think it's nicer for the people at the beach.
- What? - That lifeguard thing.
I think it's nice to be at the beach with your children
and to see you sitting up there in your red trunks,
like, "What the hell? If he's here, I'm going in that water."
Yeah.
More coffee?
Back to normal.
Let's just pretend...
.. everything is back to normal.
So let's just pretend that we have a normal child.
Urgh! Gross!
And she's lost. She lives in her head.
God knows what's in there. She's inscrutable.
Every time I talk to you, I feel like we're these little rats in a cage,
and we keep touching that goddamn bar, and we keep getting shocked.
Reggie, open the door!
Go away! I have diarrhoea.
How do you know it was her?
Do you miss your daughter?
When... When she was younger...
.. we'd been very close.
I thought the bond could never be broken.
But it was... almost effortlessly. I...
I didn't know that was all the time we'd have.
Don't you think 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?
This is a lost cause.
- Well, maybe we should split up. - Oh, that's great.
That's great.
You go, but you better find yourself one hell of a lawyer.
Split up to find the dog.
Oh.
That's a good idea.
The last time I sat on this porch, I was an 18-year-old girl.
It was a pretty summer morning.
I was wearing overalls.
THE MASTER PAINTERS
Something to keep you warm?
Thanks.
Why are you here?
To find out if someone in my family is on your Post-it.
That's why, asshole.
If you knew who was on this Post-it, could you stop it?
Maybe.
No one you know will die tonight.
Why are you doing this to me?
If you knew who it was, could you stop it?
No.
You can't.
I can't sleep.
Why can't I sleep?
You stand too close to a painting...
.. all you see are patches of colour.
Stand too far back, you can't see any of the detail.
Right now, this is your particular perspective.
And if you ask me...
I'm a little too close.
Yes.
I don't know why I'm here.
I guess to see if everyone's OK. I don't know.
I really don't know.
I'm just...
I'm so tired.
Are they OK?
I don't know.
I really can't see.
Drink your coffee, peanut, before it gets cold.
"Why are you here?"
Why the fuck am I here?
"Why are you here?"
- It's the milkman! - Yeah. Looks that way.
- What did he ever do to anyone? - I don't know.
Somebody sure is gonna fuck the milkman.
Morning.
Morning. You're up early.
Nice time of day... night.
- I don't know what it is. - A quiet time.
- Yeah. - Makes you feel a little apart from things,
like you're in the world but not of it.
Hmm... I'll say.
- You got a nice round here, huh? - Sure. It's great.
Nice families. Getting to watch the sun rise all by yourself.
That's its own reward.
It's real pretty even when it's still dark out.
- You know? - Yeah.
It sure is.
- Sorry about that. - That's OK.
I'll get it.
I think you're gonna like the new route.
He wasn't anyone I knew, and it was still hard.
Everybody OK in there?
See you later.
- So, you a two-per-cent guy? - No, whole milk all the way.
- Two per cent's for sissies. - Yeah.
How's your cholesterol?
Hey, Rube! Wait up!
- Good night, guys. - Good night.
- Good night, Daisy. - Thanks for a wonderful evening.
I think I'm going to start a painting tomorrow.
It is tomorrow.
Maybe today.
Hey, bub.
Hey, get me a cup of black coffee
and some cinnamon toast...
Support us and become VIP member to remove all ads from www.OpenSubtitles.org