Advertise your product or brand here contact www.OpenSubtitles.org today
Sometimes I wonder if I haunt my sister.
When she's laying there in the morning and it's all quiet,
I wonder if she's thinking about me.
She's 11. She's probably just thinking about a boy... or breakfast.
Or flying away.
Once a year my family goes to this cabin by a lake.
On the road by ten. Three hours out, we'd stop at a store
where this guy who looked like Colonel Sanders
would give me some home-made taffy.
Then three hours with the windows down,
just as my stomach would start to growl, there we were:
at the rental office with the clock in the shape of a cat's face to pick up the key.
By the time I got to high school,
I thought I was too cool to go on vacation with my family.
I'd complain and act all sullen most of the time I was there.
It's what I did best.
Now they were heading up there for the first time since I died
and all I could think about was that I wanted to go.
That I wanted to be on vacation with them.
Rube once told me that haunting is all about envy.
I'm beginning to understand.
I said I hated going to that lake when I was in high school.
I was lying. Every summer I couldn't wait to get up there.
- Hey, Reg. How're you doing? - Good. Dad's letting me use his knife.
- What are you going to do with it? - I was thinking of whittling something.
Trade you the fishing pole for the knife.
OK.
Did you ever feel good and bad about something at the same time?
You know, really conflicted?
I once had sex with the pilot of a 77 477 in flight.
The sex was great, but I was sure we were gonna die.
Flying used to be an entirely different experience. It was more genteel.
Yeah. Can't get into that cockpit any more, so to speak.
People dressed up. You could smoke.
- They'd serve a highball in a nice glass. - Can I have my assignment?
- Where's the fire? - In my pants.
That's probably syphilis.
Hey, can you steal me a car?
First of all, the correct phrase is "boost". Second, I'm not a used car lot.
And, darling, you really have to learn to steal your own cars.
- Why do you want a car? - You gonna knock over a liquor store?
No. I was thinking about... getting away.
I've always wanted to knock over a liquor store.
- I could help you out there. - OK. We'll be the next Bonnie and Clyde.
- Really? - No, never. Not ever.
Forget about the car, OK. Rube, can I please have my Post-it?
- Here. I'm leaving. - No, you're not. Sit down.
Hello, hello? I'm sitting here.
Rube, I really have to go.
- Joy, are you ready to go? - Almost.
- Reggie, are you packing? - Yes.
Will we get there in time to go swimming?
I don't know. Maybe.
- Well? - Just ask me, OK?
- If you would like me to do something, ask me. - Don't fucking start.
Hello? Hello?
- You keep that ledger in your head. - What?
The master list of all the things I do wrong.
I would like to get there by nightfall
and I wanna stop at the taffy store.
Hello? Oh, come on! Hello?
- Who's that? - Must have been a wrong number.
Must have been. Flashlight.
- Do you want to go? - Of course.
Come on. You're lying. You're such a liar.
You don't fool me.
I wanted to tell Reggie it would be OK, even though I didn't believe it.
Rube, it's time we hand out the assignments, please.
There are no assignments today.
- What? - No one's dying today.
- Really? - Look over there.
Don't look right at it. You've got to look askance.
- A what? - Askance.
Out of the corner of your eye.
Gravelings are taking the day off.
- They do it every few years. - Why?
Think of it like an eclipse. It's just the way the planets align.
No one dies today.
Tell me this means we get a three-day weekend.
Cocksucker.
Fuck! I'm not getting it!
Don't even answer it.
Hello? Hello. Just a second.
It's school nonsense. I'm gonna take it in the office.
- We gotta do filing? - Paperwork.
For every soul the division's ever taken. I'm a little behind.
Why is it my karmic destiny to do paperwork?
Wherever I go, I'm a temp.
- It's all gotta be organised and logged. - You're locking up my section.
- We got work to do. - Then work has to order.
I hear you.
This pile's a scrambled, side of browns. This pile wants the Belgians.
This pile would like the Benedict, easy on the Hollandaise.
Four black coffees and give booth six another pitcher of mimosas.
Booth six is empty.
OK, JD. First we jump in the water 'cause you need to know how to swim.
- We can make a fire tonight, right? - Mm. Blazing.
Maybe I'll catch a fish and cook it.
- I don't know if there's wood. - I'll collect it.
George used to collect driftwood. I remember.
So we'll have a fire.
Each white sheet has all the information on a single death.
We categorise the sheets and copy them into the ledgers.
How are you gonna want to access the data?
- What? - When it's all done.
Do you just wanna access them chronologically?
If you wanna get more complex, you'll have to give each record an identifier
so that you can do cross tabs.
When you put so much effort into hating your job,
it's easy not to notice you're learning something.
My system works fine.
Are we alphabetising by first or last name?
Have you ever seen anyone alphabetised by first name?
I'm simply trying to understand what it is we are doing.
Wow!
- Daisy didn't ask that to piss you off. - Thank you.
She asked that 'cause she can't shut up. Neither of you can.
- Listen to the man and shut the fuck up. - Thank you.
These are filed by last thought. It's written on the back of each page.
You only give us names, addresses and ETDs.
Yes. That is not all I get.
Last thought.
"I should have apologised to Mr Roy about the broken phonograph."
- What the fuck do I file that under? - Categories reveal themselves as we go.
So let's get going.
It was strange to think that while we worked,
all over town, death was taking a break.
Not that anyone noticed.
Death is kind of like sex in high school.
If you knew how many times you missed having it, you'd be paralysed.
- What have we got here? - Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda.
Has anyone seen a sheet for IA Newman?
- Who knows? - Isadore Newman? I remember him.
Piano tuner. Liked the symphony and paintings by Degas.
He was working on a baby grand. Piano string snapped, right in the face. Blinded him.
He stood up and knocked the lid and it smacked down on his first vertebra.
- Broke his neck. - What time is it?
- It's five past five. - I gotta go to the bathroom.
I don't think it's healthy to schedule that.
George, tell Mom the heater's on. Half an hour till we can shower.
Mom! Heater's on. Half an hour till it's hot.
I'm not showering for five days.
Tell your father he's lucky if I even brush my teeth!
Really?
No. And you're gonna be brushing your teeth too.
Can we roast marshmallows over the fire tonight?
- We're gonna have all week. - Please? Reggie loves marshmallows.
I think we'll stick with bottles for Reggie.
- Mom loves marshmallows. - Why don't we just relax?
- Tomorrow, I promise. - OK.
It's vacation. We have all week.
Whatever.
- Hey! Go get the marshmallows. - Yes!
"I wish I'd taken better care of Lucy. I shouldn't have put Jezebel to sleep."
Pet regrets, spouse regrets on that table.
- I'll go with pet regrets. Which stack? - Big one.
Daisy, out of the massive collection of sex stories you've told us,
I've noticed there's no Brits.
- Alec Guinness, Rex Harrison, Richard Burton... - Richard Burton's Welsh.
I can't believe he never won an Oscar.
Daisy, let's not pretend. Me and you: nasty little spark there.
No. Non. Nyet. Nein. Nada. Never.
Right then. Wager. If I win, you kiss me.
Fine. Call it.
Tails.
- Oh. Mason... - Yeah.
You don't have any money, your hygiene is suspect,
your clothes alone disqualify you and you're not even alive.
Pet regrets.
- More coffee? - Thanks.
- How are you doing? - Thanks for asking.
People don't ask that much any more or, if they do, they don't care.
That's the truth. People just want to hear themselves talk.
Like when my son calls, every two months to never,
he only wants to borrow money or complain about his sister.
She's the smart one until it comes to the OTB.
Then it's 500 on the trifecta.
I mean, I can understand the rush, but 500 dollars...?
Can we go to the water? JD wants to go. Can I go fishing?
I wouldn't have thought you'd get reception up here.
Let's unpack the car, then we'll see about fishing.
- Why d'you bring the cellphone? - In case any of us got into trouble.
What happens when we make all the piles?
We copy each sheet into the ledgers.
- By hand? - Yes, by hand.
This is useless.
You know what's a lost art? Calligraphy. No one uses fountain pens any more.
It'd be much faster to copy them into a computer file.
Death hasn't really evolved much since pre-Gutenberg Bible days.
Reaping doesn't lend itself to Microsoft Outlook.
You mean Excel, not Outlook. It's just another way of organising information.
Death may not have evolved, but data entry has.
- Why don't we have a computer? - Amen!
I may regret saying this,
but my old office was always empty at this hour.
This is what I used to do at Happy Time.
- Used to do? - I still have keys.
- I got fresh fountain pens for everybody. - I have delicate hands.
We cannot copy down all this information by hand. Look at it!
- If you focus, start right... - Fuck that shit, Rube!
I need a goddamn laptop.
Happy Time it is.
There's Monopoly. Maybe we could play.
You know what, Reg? I'm wiped out.
- You and your mother go ahead and play. - You can't play with just two people.
I'm exhausted, sweetie. I'll catch you next time.
I say we ignore these dishes and break out the Monopoly.
Forget it.
Reg?
It doesn't work with just two people.
Reggie?
What?
- We'll go fishing in the morning. - OK.
We can set up in the conference room and use some cubicles for the data entry.
I want this one. It smells like pot-pourri.
That's Marie's. She has gum disease.
What time your fellow cogs roll in?
Some guy comes in around dawn to call the Philippines.
The cleaning crew's been. What time is it?
It's 8.30.
Night, George.
- Is she sleepy? - She's getting there.
She's so boring. All she does is sleep and poop.
Same as you did, young lady.
- Do you think she'll be as smart as I am? - Oh, I hope so.
Goodnight, Georgia.
- Leave it open. - We're gonna be up talking for a while.
I like that.
Night-night.
If we split into pairs, we can catalogue it all by morning.
- What pairs? - One person reads, one person types.
- Hear that, Daisy? Pairs. - I'm gonna work alone.
There are five of us, so somebody has to be alone.
- I'm supervising. - What is there to supervise?
I'm gonna copy some of the data into the ledger to be safe.
- You don't need to. - What if it gets lost?
There's a tape backup and it saves to an off-site server.
Chim-cham and goo-gaas to a hoo-ha whimmy whizzle.
You wanna use your fountain pen, you go for it.
But after a long night and you manage to cover three pages, feel good about it.
What was that?
Fucking gravelings.
They don't have anything better to do on their day off?
"I should have gone to art school."
"I should have said yes."
- "I should have..." - Wait. I should have what?
- Said yes. - There's a lot of that going around.
Please!
OK. I'm not your type. So who is?
- "I should have held her hand..." - Daisy.
Come on, seriously. Tell me.
My type?
Where to begin?
There needs to be something about the way the man looks
gives me chills in the back of the neck.
Rich is good. OK, rich is imperative.
Rich and famous, a lethal combination.
I had a guy who shall remain... Bing Crosby.
.. who sent me two dozen lilies every day for the seven months we were together.
After we broke it off, I fell for a big cheese over at MGM.
He promised me an exclusive studio contract when his divorce came through.
Then there was the senator, also married...
"It's freezing."
"Momma, oh, Momma."
"I give up."
"Fuck! It's just seaweed."
- What pile is this? - Mid-ocean deaths.
- Let me type. - I'm getting better.
- No, you're not. - It's the keys.
You breathe on them, they go down.
I had an old Manhattan B and the thing was a Gatling.
- Let me type, Rube. - I'm getting better.
Everything's in caps. Oh, fuck!
- Mom? - Did I wake you?
What are you reading?
It's called Cat's Cradle. Someone left it.
I love it. I love the books that people leave here.
Why don't people steal them?
I don't know. They're the kind of books you wouldn't read at home.
I want to take them all home.
- Why? - 'Cause they make you happy.
- Who's happy? - Everybody.
What time is it?
I'm one of the few people who can know for sure,
but the only thing as random and unlikely as my death was my birth.
Hello, Larry! Yeah!
Johnny boy, how's it hanging? Yes!
Mary? What's the 411? Eh?
What the hell are you doing?
I'm pretending to care about these people.
Oh. Well, the guy who sits in that cubicle has a website dedicated to rare buttons.
And the woman who sits in there has phone sex with a high-school senior
from New Mexico. Native American.
And the woman who sits over there...
.. is sitting over there.
Crystal?
- We have a problem. - I don't think it's a problem.
- Gravelings? - Hm... weirder.
It's fine. She said she came here to water her plants.
She offered to help.
Does she know you're no longer employed here?
It's really hard to tell what Crystal knows.
It's 2.30. We have a lot more to do.
Does it type?
"How could she do it?"
"How could he do it?" "Why did she do this?"
Am I going too fast? Sure?
"This'll show her." "He won't forget me now."
"No."
"Yes."
"Now, that's ironic."
Older men are fine. Older men can be delightful.
They demand less, they're attentive to their personal hygiene,
they give fabulous gifts.
They're always really grateful.
Though they very, very rarely leave their wives.
That was informative. Shall we take a stab at these?
Yeah. You read, I type.
"Why?"
- Because I'm the better typist. - Last thought.
Oh. "Why?" Short and sweet.
Hm. "I wish I had someone."
"I wish I had someone."
"Is anyone there?"
"Why can't somebody be with me?"
"Born alone, die alone."
"I feel empty."
We're making good progress, peanut. Ahead of schedule.
Dolores always said I was excellent at implementing action plans.
They were lucky to have had you.
Had you stayed, maybe you would have been Happy Time worker of the year.
I guess. Why are we doing all this?
You mean, if a tree falls in a forest who gives a fuck?
Yeah. Like, who is all this work for?
You know Henry Ward Beecher's last words?
No.
"Now comes the mystery." Beautiful.
- Know what his last thoughts were? - No.
Me neither. I haven't been able to find his paperwork.
We're witnesses, peanut. Everyone matters.
But who is all this work for?
Anyone that's interested. Are you?
Yes. You can't smoke in here.
Fuck that bullshit. They can blow me.
- I've got a question. - Yes, you're burning it.
- No, you don't have to eat it. - No. Why can't we live here?
- Here? - In this cabin.
- You couldn't fit half your toys in. - I don't need my toys.
- I'd like to see that! - I could live here.
Let's do it for real.
Sometimes I look at all the crap in our house,
all those things we needed. I could do without.
- Are you gonna make George jump in the lake? - I'm not jumping in the lake!
I'm serious. If we didn't have to work so hard to make the money,
we wouldn't have to spend the money to feel better for working so hard.
- We could really live out here. - Deep.
- Shut up. - We could have a much simpler life.
Let's do it. I don't need anything back there. I can teach Reggie about fishing.
- What would we do all day? - This.
"I don't understand." That's where that one ends.
"I'm so alone."
"There's nobody."
- Are we almost finished? - Yeah. A couple more.
What do you say when we're done we go back to my place for a drink?
- Don't fuck with me. - I probably won't.
But a drink won't kill anyone, least of all us. I'm guessing Jameson's.
Yeah.
You're not such bad company.
I'm guessing with some disinfectant soap and American dentistry,
you'd clean up just fine.
"I wish I'd taken better care of Lucy."
That is it for this one.
You're just checking it over? Good.
You like your job?
I hear you, girl.
It's all just one big shrug.
Paper-clips?
Oh. I've organised like this too.
I do not understand people who can't find their own shit. You?
Put things in their place.
Then they call you anal. Like holding your shit in has something to do
with why you put the staplers next to the stapler.
"Please, please, please... I want to hear a voice... Why am I so lonely?"
Second to last page, right?
This one should be "Why am I so alone?"
Well, you can do the last ones without me.
- Don't forget about that drink. - No. I won't.
I said, "If we're gonna share men, we can cut 'em in half."
'Cause I'm not gonna be dating a double dipper,
especially when all three of us know. Would you?
Uh-uh.
I guess she thought we were just going to chat over dinner.
I moved out. Do you think I did the right thing?
We're on the same page, girl.
I didn't know anyone was in here.
Rube demanded a copy of the hard copy.
He's still a little skittish about the whole digital thing.
Well...
- You guys almost finished? - Uh-huh.
Daisy?
Doesn't it bother you, Georgia?
What?
Everybody's thoughts are the same.
Two thirds are people who regret.
The rest are people who forgot to do stuff or are praying or...
.. are alone.
- Shouldn't there be more? - More what?
More piles. More words. More thoughts.
I guess.
And then... And then you die and you might become a reaper
and the magic of creation turns out to be a nine-to-five grind with lots of paperwork.
It's just... It's so...
It's so everyday.
Lots of people leave. There's nothing everyday about where they're going.
How do you know that's true?
Maybe we just keep moving from one filing job to the next.
Oh, my God. We're all temps.
It was strange to hear the secret of the universe from a starlet
in a copy room at three o'clock in the morning.
But considering what the secret was, it was perfect.
I hate spiders. Please kill it. Just please kill it for me.
- Clancy, don't be such a pussy. - I have a phobia about spiders!
See if you can find somebody who gives a flying fuck.
That's the thing about life, isn't it?
How can something be so boring and extraordinary at the same time?
- Georgia, time to go! - Coming!
You ready for that drink?
You know what... maybe some other time.
Come on. I'll walk you out, Daisy.
Thanks for all your help.
- I like your friend Roxy. - I'm sure she likes you too.
- Hey, Crystal... - I won't tell anyone.
Thank you.
Hey, Rube. Can I borrow your truck?
God, you're up early this morning, Reg.
Want some hot chocolate?
Um... no.
- How about some oatmeal? - No.
Thank you.
- How did JD sleep? - Fine.
Good.
Are you OK?
No. Are you?
No.
Are the fish biting this morning?
I miss her.
Maybe... we could go someplace different next summer.
OK.
Maybe Daisy was right.
Maybe death was the temp job and life was the vacation.
A vacation you were supposed to spend with the people you loved.
With people who loved you.
And if life was that kind of vacation, what then?
What would your last thoughts be then?
Support us and become VIP member to remove all ads from OpenSubtitles.org