8. What Do You Want From Me?

As you look around this room tonight
Settle in your seat and dim the light
Do you want my blood? Do you want my tears?
What do you want...

Do you think that I know something you don't know?
If I don't promise you the answers, would you go?
Should I stand out in the rain?
Do you want me to make a daisy chain for you?
I'm not the one you need...

You can have anything you want
You can drift, you can dream, even walk on water
Anything you want
You can own everything you see
Sell your soul for complete control
Is that really what you need?
You can lose your selfish mind
See inside, there is nothing to hide
Turn and face the night

What do you want from me?

Pink Floyd


Prologue

The stage stays empty a little longer than usual as we await Robert's entrance. We hear some arguing -- shouting -- backstage.

VOICE ONE: I'm doing this anymore!

VOICE TWO: What? What do you want from me?

VOICE ONE: I quit!

A door slams. Moments later, someone walks out...but it's not Robert. It's a scraggly, unshaven man, 20s, with long, greasy hair and a t-shirt bearing the image of Emperor Palpatine. He has several sheets of paper in one hand, and a very aggravated look on his face. He stomps his way to front and center and glares at the audience.

This is the until-now-unseen AUTHOR.

AUTHOR: So. Robert quit. We've had a...difference of opinion. Something about not getting enough steady work...who the hell knows. Whatever. I don't know what he wants. But somebody has to do this. So it looks like me.

He glances at his sheets of paper, but doesn't read from them -- apparently, he knows this stuff from memory. And unlike Robert's usual bored, distracted, "blah-blah-blah" delivery, the Author says this stuff happily, with passion. Like he, ya know, cares.

AUTHOR: Okay...last time we did this, the five took to the freeway to escape the wrath of Hurricane Gerald, which, as it turned out, changed course and missed them completely. So, unfortunately for them, they were stuck on the road for thirty hours for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

Now, a few things happened during that trip. They were forced to look after Biggio, the cat that belongs to Michael's sister, California. Patrick convinced Rebecca to join him in writing a song, which was, of course, in no way a manipulative attempt to get her to play bass in his band again. And Jason and Angela had a long conversation about their relationship. Jason, you remember, was keeping his love for Angela a secret until recently, and his confession made things awkward between the two of them. But that night, on the road to Dallas, the pair agreed to put it behind them, to "move on." Jason, though, of course, seemed a little unhappy with this arrangement -- especially once Angela, falling asleep, implied that he might have had chance with her if only he'd acted sooner...a problem he's encountered many times in his life before. Which is why he likes Hamlet so much, I would imagine.

He laughs, but it wasn't funny -- or even supposed to be -- and he quickly realizes it.

AUTHOR: Well, anyway...this episode, our eighth, concerns the party at which Patrick's band, Soda Lake, will be playing, a birthday party for the Weaver twins, Dawn and Marci. As we begin, it's about a week away, more or less. Patrick is still maneuvering to get his bassist, Chad, out and Rebecca in.

That's probably all you need, but it might help if I lobbed in a few extra reminders. First off, Michael's brother, Carter, is an ex-con, who's currently living with their sister, Cali, who I mentioned before, and Anthony, her husband. But he's not the perfect houseguest, and Cali has asked Michael repeatedly to do something about him. Michael, however, has been reluctant. Also, Angela moved into the house after, essentially, sneaking out on Vanessa, her old roommate. The two of them have spoken only once since she moved out, and it didn't go well at all. Angela replaced Louis in the house, and Louis is also not happy with those who kicked him out. Patrick has been obsessively flirting with a waitress at Denny's, a redhead named Shannon. And Jason was recently punched in the face by one of his new stepbrothers -- he's not sure which. Only Angela knows about it.

Let's see here, what else....

He shuffles through his papers. There's a loud "AHEM" from backstage. The Author glances toward its source.

AUTHOR: Oh. Well, I suppose that's enough. We should probably get started. Enjoy.

He starts to walk off, but stops and turns back to the audience.

AUTHOR: Oh, one last thing. There's something that you should probably know for this one. There's a song by Led Zeppelin -- it's called--

Once again: "AHEM." More insistent this time.

AUTHOR: ...Or not. Okay then.

Somewhat crestfallen, he exits.


Scene 1 - the house, afternoon

Patrick is alone in the living room, on the phone. He's wearing a cheap-looking white t-shirt that declares in black letters I SURVIVED THE HURRICANE GERALD EVACUATION. The D's are peeling off.

Right now, he's pacing back and forth behind the couch and appears to be trying not to jump up and down in glee.

PATRICK: Well, I understand that-- ...Yeah, Chad, I understand completely. ...No, you're right, I haven't been supportive at all. ...Yeah. ...Yeah. ...Yeah, that's right, I should apologize. I do apologize. ...Well, if that's the way you feel, maybe you should. ...I'm not firing you, but if you're not happy, then there's no sense in staying, is there? ...Exactly. ...Well, then. It's been nice working with you. You're the...the...well, ya know, you're...indescribable. ...No, I do mean that. ...No, no, that isn't necessary. I'm sure I can find someone else in time. ...I know it's only a week, but-- ...Well, she might. I'd have to ask her. ...Sure thing, Chad. ...Good luck, man. 'Bye.

As he pushes the button to disconnect the call, he doesn't notice Rebecca entering from the hallway behind him.

PATRICK: Yyyyyeah!

He tosses the phone onto the couch, and in the process sees Rebecca staring at him, eyebrow arched.

PATRICK: Uh, hey.

REBECCA: Hi there.

PATRICK: Sleep well?

REBECCA: Yeah. Several hours ago. It's two in the afternoon.

PATRICK: Well, yeah. But you weren't out here -- I thought you were asleep.

REBECCA: I was reading.

PATRICK: Ah. Of course.

REBECCA: So what was that about?

PATRICK: What?

REBECCA: Yyyyyeah!

PATRICK: Oh. I, uh...just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance.

REBECCA: Right.

PATRICK: So what's up?

REBECCA: Nothing. Where'd you go this morning?

PATRICK: Had to talk to Danny. Made sure he got his drums fixed.

REBECCA: What about Chad?

PATRICK: ...What about him?

REBECCA: I guess at this point, you're stuck with him for the party, right?

PATRICK: Guess so, yeah.

REBECCA: Well, I promise there'll be ten people at the party who can play better than him, anyway. You'll find someone after, no problem.

PATRICK: Sure.

REBECCA: Shouldn't you guys be, like, rehearsing, though?

PATRICK: We have been. But Danny's drums--

REBECCA: Were broken, yeah. But it's Saturday. You don't have to work. Apparently he got the drums fixed. So why don't you guys rehearse today? You've only got a week.

PATRICK: ...Chad's sick.

REBECCA: Oh.

PATRICK: We're gonna meet up during the week a couple times, though. Tomorrow night, actually. We'll be fine.

REBECCA: Okay. It's just, ya know, you guys haven't had a gig in a while.

PATRICK: Yeah, we'll be fine. I mean, it's mostly the same crap we've been playing for ages now. We can play it in our sleep.

REBECCA: All right.

She circles around to the front of the couch and sits down.

PATRICK: You know...it'd be nice if we could play that new song at the party.

REBECCA: It would be.

PATRICK: Which would mean we'd need to finish it.

REBECCA: Probably.

PATRICK: Done anything else with it?

REBECCA: I tweaked the second verse a little and rewrote the bridge. It's a bit more to the point now, less flowery.

PATRICK: Flowery.

REBECCA: Yeah. The bridge you wrote was a little...flowery.

PATRICK: How so?

REBECCA: Uh, well. It was just all puffy and empty. I mean, it was clever, but it didn't really mean anything, did it?

PATRICK: Um, no, I guess not.

REBECCA: So I changed it.

PATRICK: All right.

REBECCA: That's okay, right? I mean, that's what you said you wanted.

PATRICK: No, it's fine. I did say I wanted that.

REBECCA: ...But?

PATRICK: Flowery?

REBECCA: "Flowery," meaning unnecessarily ornate or showy. Not meaning girly.

PATRICK: Right. Yeah, I knew what you meant.

REBECCA: Of course you did.

PATRICK: I did.

REBECCA: Well, you'll have to look at it, but I think it's pretty much finished. As far as I can see.

PATRICK: Cool.

REBECCA: I played the new version for Angela earlier. She liked it.

PATRICK: Hey, she's got a CD of mine I need back. Is she here?

REBECCA: No. She and Jason went to the movies.

Patrick sits on the couch next to her.

PATRICK: They went to the movies? Together?

REBECCA: Yeah.

PATRICK: Did Michael go?

REBECCA: No, he's at work.

PATRICK: Uh-huh.

REBECCA: What?

PATRICK: That's kinda weird, isn't it?

REBECCA: How so?

PATRICK: Well. I mean. Jason and Angela. Went to the movies. Together.

REBECCA: So what?

PATRICK: Well, are they...ya know...?

REBECCA: No. No, of course not. You know that.

PATRICK: Well, then...

REBECCA: That's it, Patrick. They both wanted to see the movie, they went. They asked me to go, but I didn't feel like it. You can't read anything into it.

PATRICK: Okay. Still, it's weird, though, isn't it?

REBECCA: No. Look, they talked about it during the evacuation. They worked everything out. They've agreed they can still be friends.

PATRICK: Yeah. Right.

REBECCA: They did.

PATRICK: Oh, I'm sure they agreed to it.

REBECCA: But you don't think they can be.

PATRICK: No.

REBECCA: Well, you know that's what Angela wants. And Jason said--

PATRICK: Of course Jason said, everybody says they can be friends. When couples break up, they do the same thing. What do you want him to say?

REBECCA: You don't think he meant it?

PATRICK: No one ever means it.

REBECCA: He was lying, then.

PATRICK: If you were him, would you still want to be friends?

REBECCA: It would be better than not being near her at all, I would think.

PATRICK: You would think that. Angela probably thinks that. But you're both very wrong.

The front door opens and Michael enters.

MICHAEL: Hey.

BOTH: Hey.

MICHAEL: I'm assuming the cat is still in my room.

REBECCA: Unless he pulled off some sort of brilliant escape plan and disappeared across the border, yeah. We didn't let him out. Didn't even go in there.

PATRICK: Well, except to make sure he'd urinated on all of your stuff.

REBECCA: Aside from that, yeah.

MICHAEL: Okay, then.

He heads for the hallway. Cali enters through the front door.

CALI: Hey, guys.

BOTH: Hey.

CALI: Oh, you're wearing that shirt?

PATRICK: It's a cool shirt.

CALI: It's a stupid shirt.

PATRICK: No, it's cool, see...

REBECCA: Hey, are some of the letters peeling off?

PATRICK: ...A little, yeah.

CALI: Clearly, ten bucks well-spent.

PATRICK: Hey, the guy said it was professionally made.

REBECCA: And if you can't trust a guy selling homemade t-shirts out of a cardboard box by the interstate, who can you trust, really?

Michael enters, cat carrier in hand.

MICHAEL: Here ya go.

Cali takes the carrier and starts talking to the cat in baby talk.

CALI: Aw, there's my boy, yeah! Did you miss me, huh? Yeah, you did. That's my boy.

MICHAEL: It's not, actually. Your cat died, we bought another one that looked exactly like it, hoping you couldn't tell. [beat] Can you?

CALI: See, he thinks he's funny, Biggio. But we know better, don't we?

PATRICK: We sure do.

MICHAEL: I guess you need the litter box back, too.

CALI: Oh, we got a new one. So, no. You can just throw that one away or whatever.

MICHAEL: Okay.

CALI: So I thought you guys said Angela was allergic.

MICHAEL: She is. That's why Biggio stayed in my room the whole time. And why my room now smells like cat.

CALI: Now he's making fun of the way you smell, Biggio. My brother's a big meanie.

MICHAEL: Yes, Biggio, a big meanie who let you run around freely and shed over everything in his room. I'm so mean, I am.

CALI: And he's a whiner, too, huh?

MICHAEL: All right. See what happens next time you ask me to take care of your cat. Go ahead.

PATRICK: You grumble and moan and refuse for about thirty seconds, then cave because you're a spineless wuss?

MICHAEL: Remind me why I'm friends with you, again?

PATRICK: Hmm. Yeah, I got nuthin'.

CALI: Well, Anthony's waiting in the car, so I better go. See you guys. And thank you for taking of Biggio, Michael.

MICHAEL: Sure.

CALI: Oh, hey, Patrick, that party is next week?

PATRICK: Yep.

CALI: Can't wait. See you guys later.

MICHAEL: Bye, Cali.

Rebecca and Patrick also offer goodbyes, and Cali exits.

MICHAEL: Well, now I have to get that damn litter box out of my room.

REBECCA: Good idea.

MICHAEL: Hey, it's Saturday. Weren't you guys going to rehearse today?

PATRICK: Oh, Chad's sick.

MICHAEL: ...Is he?

PATRICK: Yeah. Ate some bad Jack-in-the-Box. He'll be fine.

MICHAEL: Of course he will.

He exits to the hallway.

Something occurs to Rebecca.

REBECCA: So, "let's be friends" is a lie, huh?

PATRICK: Yeah.

REBECCA: You know, when you and I broke up, you said you wanted to stay friends.

A beat.

PATRICK: Well, of course there are obvious exceptions.

REBECCA: Right.

PATRICK: And their situation is entirely different.

REBECCA: Sure.

PATRICK: It is.

REBECCA: Whatever.

The front door opens. Angela and Jason enter, neither looking very happy. Jason, in particular, looks kinda...mopey.

PATRICK: Hey.

ANGELA: Hey.

REBECCA: How was the movie?

ANGELA: Dentists have cleaned better film off my teeth.

REBECCA: Ah. So, "bad," then.

ANGELA: Yeah.

PATRICK: That sucks.

Jason wanders toward the hallway. He doesn't say a word.

REBECCA: Hey, Jude.

JASON: Lovely Rita?

REBECCA: You okay?

JASON: ...Yeah...

REBECCA: You didn't say anything.

JASON: Well, Angela pretty much summed it up. It was a horrible piece of shit. What do you want me to say?

REBECCA: ...Uh, nothing. I guess. You were just...quiet. That's all.

Michael enters the room, carrying a large garbage bag that, presumably, holds the litter box. You can clearly see the shape of the litter box through the plastic, and Michael's holding it away from his body like a bomb.

MICHAEL: Watch out, hazardous waste. Hey, Angela.

ANGELA: Hey.

Michael walks straight out the front door without slowing or stopping at all.

ANGELA: I take it Cali got her cat.

PATRICK: Mercifully.

ANGELA: You don't like Biggio?

PATRICK: No, I didn't like Michael bitching about Biggio. So I'm glad he's gone.

ANGELA: I see.

PATRICK: Hey, that Who CD I let you borrow, could I have that back?

ANGELA: Sure, it's in my room. Hey, it's Saturday, aren't you guys supposed to--

REBECCA and PATRICK: Chad's sick.

ANGELA: He's sick?

REBECCA: Yeah. Bad Jack-in-the-Box, apparently.

PATRICK: Yeah. He's gonna be fine, though.

ANGELA: Of course he will.

Rebecca fixes Patrick with a shrewd look. Angela exits to the hallway, where Jason is still standing.

REBECCA: Okay, why does everyone keep saying that?

PATRICK: Saying what?

REBECCA: Chad being fine. "Of course he will."

PATRICK: ...Because he will. Of course?

Michael comes back inside and closes the door.

REBECCA: Michael?

MICHAEL: Yeah?

REBECCA: What is going on?

MICHAEL: Huh?

REBECCA: Chad.

MICHAEL: He's sick. Isn't he? That's what Patrick said. And you can believe Patrick.

Patrick smacks his forehead. Rebecca gives him a "Well?" look.

PATRICK: Honestly, nothing is going on. Chad really is--

REBECCA: He quit, didn't he?

PATRICK: --uh, um, what?

REBECCA: That's why you're not rehearsing. And why you were doing a touchdown dance when I saw you on the phone earlier.

Angela returns, CD in hand. As she's handing it to Patrick:

PATRICK: I...was not dancing...

ANGELA: Oh, just tell her already. You're starting to piss her off.

PATRICK: Hey, I don't need coaching. I'm not Jason.

JASON: Thanks, man.

PATRICK: Oh -- shit. I...

JASON: Forgot I was still in the room?

PATRICK: Yeah.

JASON: I am.

PATRICK: Hey.

JASON: Hey.

PATRICK: Sorry.

JASON: Yeah.

REBECCA: Anyway?

PATRICK: Yeah. So...Chad quit today.

REBECCA: Uh-huh.

PATRICK: So I don't have a bass player.

REBECCA: How unfortunate.

PATRICK: I would look for a replacement...but there's so little time.

REBECCA: Uh-huh.

PATRICK: So...I was hoping...as a favor to me...just this once...

REBECCA: You're pathetic.

PATRICK: What? Hey, he quit on me. That's not my fault.

MICHAEL: Sure.

PATRICK: He did. I called him this afternoon, and he told me he quit.

REBECCA: And why did you call him?

PATRICK: ...To fire him. But that's not the point.

REBECCA: Sure.

PATRICK: Look, I know you said you didn't want to--

REBECCA: Repeatedly.

PATRICK: I'm not asking for this on a permanent basis.

Jason chuckles. Everyone looks at him.

JASON: Basis. [beat] Bass-is. [beat] Yeah.

The conversation continues as if he didn't speak.

PATRICK: Just this once. I swear, that's all.

REBECCA: I'll bet.

PATRICK: I'll start looking for a new bassist the day -- hell, the morning after the party. But you've gotta save my ass.

REBECCA: I haven't played a bass guitar in almost a year.

PATRICK: But you play my acoustic all the time. And you're good, you'll pick it up again in no time.

REBECCA: I don't know all your new stuff.

PATRICK: I think you have four songs to learn. We've put together little new material in the last two years. Largely thanks to Chad, oddly enough. But it's the same old Beatles covers, Stones covers, Aerosmith covers. A Dylan song or two.

She thinks for a minute.

REBECCA: It's the same old stuff?

PATRICK: Yeah. "Tumbling Dice." "Jumpin' Jack Flash." "Helter Skelter." "Walk This Way." "Maggie's Farm." Danny's been asking to play "Come Together" again, but Chad couldn't handle the bass part. You can play it in your sleep.

REBECCA: "Patience"?

PATRICK: Cali would have me killed if I didn't.

MICHAEL: Probably.

PATRICK: And that new song we wrote. If you wanted to play it.

REBECCA: And it's just this once?

PATRICK: Yeah.

Assorted grumbling from the others. Patrick gives them dirty looks.

REBECCA: All right. Fine. I'll do it.

PATRICK: Thank you.

REBECCA: Under one condition.

PATRICK: Sure. Wait -- I should probably hear this condition first. You have a twisted sense of humor.

MICHAEL: You should make him do something evil. He has been rather manipulative.

ANGELA: And whiny.

PATRICK: Don't encourage her. She'll have me playing in my underwear. Probably shouldn't have said that.

REBECCA: No, no. I don't need any of that. I just wanted to make sure a song we used to play ends up on the set list.

PATRICK: A song?

REBECCA: Yeah. One song. We used to play it all the time. I want to play it again.

PATRICK: That's it?

REBECCA: That's it.

PATRICK: Okay. Sure.

Jason and Michael shake their heads.

MICHAEL: You stupid bastard.

PATRICK: ...Oh hell. What song?

Rebecca just smiles.

PATRICK: No.

REBECCA: Yes.

PATRICK: No!

REBECCA: 'Fraid so.

PATRICK: I hate that song!

REBECCA: You love that song.

PATRICK: I hate playing that song.

REBECCA: I know. But I love hearing it. And you agreed.

PATRICK: Oh...man....But Danny can't play that song. He's hardly John Bonham.

REBECCA: He can, too. He used to play it all the time. It took him four months to learn to play it correctly, but he did. You remember.

PATRICK: I remember feeling like an ass while singing it, too.

REBECCA: I'm sure you do.

PATRICK: Please? Any other song? Just not that one.

ANGELA: Which song?

REBECCA: Led Zeppelin's "D'Yer Mak'er."

She pronounces it like it's spelled: "Dyer Maker." (And for future reference, so will everyone else unless otherwise noted.)

ANGELA: That "oh, oh-oh oh, oh, oh" song?

REBECCA: That's the one.

JASON: And you know, it's pronounced--

PATRICK: No one cares.

JASON: Okay.

ANGELA: That's a great song.

REBECCA: You haven't heard Patrick play it.

MICHAEL: Patrick's rendition is...unspeakably brilliant.

PATRICK: It is not.

REBECCA: Oh yes it is.

PATRICK: I sound nothing like Robert Plant.

REBECCA: Which is why it's so great.

PATRICK: Man--

REBECCA: Look, you always think I'm making fun of you when we talk about this, but I'm serious. It really is great.

PATRICK: I sound like a damn chipmunk.

REBECCA: You do not.

MICHAEL: Man, you really are good at that song. And I'd tell you if you sucked.

JASON: Over and over and over again.

MICHAEL: Exactly.

PATRICK: Yeah, but--

REBECCA: Patrick.

PATRICK: Yeah?

REBECCA: Yes or no.

PATRICK: Fine. Yes.

REBECCA: All right. I'm gonna go get my stuff out of storage. When are we going to rehearse?

PATRICK: I'll call Danny. Today, most likely.

REBECCA: Okay.

She grabs her car keys from the table. They're sitting next to a stack of DVD cases.

REBECCA: Jason, weren't these due back yesterday?

JASON: Oh, shit. I forgot. I'll run them back.

REBECCA: Video store's right by the storage place. You can come with me. And help me carry my amplifier.

JASON: Sure.

REBECCA: See you guys.

Everyone says goodbye. Jason grabs the movies and they exit. The nanosecond they're out the door, Angela drops any smile she may have had and turns to the guys in dead seriousness.

PATRICK: "You can believe Patrick"?

MICHAEL: Can't you?

PATRICK: Remind me again why I'm friends with you?

MICHAEL: Hmm. Yeah, I got nuthin'.

ANGELA: You have to talk to him.

MICHAEL: Hmm?

ANGELA: He's gonna drive me nuts.

MICHAEL: You want to me to talk to him?

ANGELA: Please.

MICHAEL: Okay. Patrick, stop being a dick.

PATRICK: My god, you're hilarious.

ANGELA: Guys.

PATRICK: I'm not sure what you want us to say.

ANGELA: Just...something.

MICHAEL: What's he doing?

ANGELA: Well...it's not anything Jason's doing, really. He's just...

MICHAEL: Acting really uncomfortable around you?

ANGELA: Yeah.

MICHAEL: Gee. Can't imagine why...

ANGELA: Hey. He told me we could work this out. I want to. But if we can't, then...

PATRICK: ...what?

ANGELA: ...I don't know.

Silence for a few beats.

MICHAEL: Well. I think once class starts again, he'll have something to distract him, he won't be as...mopey.

PATRICK: Or at least he'll be at school a lot and you won't have to look at him being mopey.

ANGELA: Yeah. He's just so mopey all the time now. And I feel guilty. And I don't want to feel guilty. Because this isn't my fault.

PATRICK: Oh no, it's Jason's. Even he'll admit that.

MICHAEL: But that won't stop him from feeling sorry for himself.

ANGELA: Then I don't know what to do.

MICHAEL: Hmm. He's going to the party, right?

PATRICK: Only because I'm playing. Otherwise, he'd die before going.

MICHAEL: Hmm. Angela, what was the name of that girl you work with, the one who went to the Astros game with us a while back?

ANGELA: Kathy.

MICHAEL: Is she working today?

ANGELA: Uh, yeah.

MICHAEL: Hmm.

He mulls something over for a second.

MICHAEL: I'll be back in a little bit.

PATRICK: Um, okay.

ANGELA: Where you going?

MICHAEL: To invite someone to a party. I'll be back.

PATRICK: 'kay.

ANGELA: See ya.

Michael leaves. Angela and Patrick look to one another.

ANGELA: What is he doing?

PATRICK: Well, if I read his thoughts correctly -- and I'd like to think that I did -- he's either going to try to set your coworker up with Jason, or he's going to hire a mobster to kill him.

ANGELA: That's what I thought.

PATRICK: It'll solve your problem.

ANGELA: Really?

PATRICK: Oh yeah. Those mob guys are pros.

ANGELA: You know, when I said "Talk to him," I didn't mean "Get him away from me." I didn't mean "Give him something else to shoot at." I just meant...well, "Talk to him."

PATRICK: You're forgetting who we're talking about here. Jason can't be reasoned with.

ANGELA: Still. This makes me uncomfortable.

PATRICK: Hey, you don't have to outswim the shark, just the person next to you.

ANGELA: That's really fucked up.

PATRICK: It's his idea, not mine. But it might work.

ANGELA: No, it won't.

PATRICK: It might.

ANGELA: Patrick, do you not remember Kathy?

PATRICK: I remember she had blond hair.

ANGELA: She has black hair.

PATRICK: Oh. Then, no, I guess I don't. She didn't talk to me much during that game.

ANGELA: Well, she's not exactly Jason's type.

PATRICK: Did she and Jason get along at the game?

ANGELA: Jason didn't go to the game. He was sick. Remember?

PATRICK: Apparently not. Jesus, was I hit by a foul ball or something?

ANGELA: My point is, it's not going to work.

PATRICK: Maybe not. But it'll give him something else to be pissed about. Which will be a temporary respite, at least.

Angela sits on the couch.

ANGELA: It's a disaster waiting to happen.

He sits next to her.

PATRICK: You know, one day, Jason's going to write an autobiography, and that's what it'll be called. A Disaster Waiting to Happen.

ANGELA: That, or 8,947 More Reasons Why Enterprise Was a Stain on the Soul of Humanity.

They laugh for a few moments.

ANGELA: You know, I really do like him, Patrick. He's good people. I just...don't...

PATRICK: Yeah. I understand.

ANGELA: I hate seeing him hurt.

PATRICK: Me, too. Despite my callous nature, I actually do care about the guy. Of course, if you tell him that, I'll kill you.

ANGELA: Your secret's safe with me.

He stands.

PATRICK: Speaking of my callous nature, did anyone ever figure out what happened to his eye?

ANGELA: ...Nope. At least, I haven't.

PATRICK: All right. I'm gonna go call Danny, tell him about our new bass player.

ANGELA: Your temporary replacement bass player, you mean.

PATRICK: Yeah. Right.

ANGELA: Uh-huh.

He picks up the phone and heads for the hallway.

ANGELA: Patrick?

PATRICK: Yeah?

ANGELA: Why are you and Michael friends?

PATRICK: I have no clue. But if you get it figured out, let us know.

He exits, leaving Angela alone. She sighs and puts her face in her hands.


Scene 2 -- the party, a week later

We're in the backyard of the Weaver's house. Several EXTRAS stand around, talking, drinking, laughing, and generally having a good time. Loud music is playing.

Off to our right is the house -- all we see of it is an open back door. There's a table near this door with various drinks and things. Off to the left is the back fence. Part of said fence is missing.

Though none of the extras are really noticeable, we should be able to spot Louis walking back and forth through the crowd at various points.

Jason stands front and center, looking miserable. He's wearing headphones, attached to something in his pocket. The partygoers seem to be keeping him at a distance, as though his melancholy might be contagious.

Michael enters (exits?) from the back door, holding a beer in each hand. He's drinking one; he walks up to Jason and offers the other.

MICHAEL: Drink this.

JASON: No thank you.

MICHAEL: You want this.

JASON: You know I don't drink.

MICHAEL: We both know you should start.

JASON: I don't want it.

MICHAEL: Yes, you do.

JASON: Go away.

MICHAEL: Can you even hear me with those things on?

JASON: I don't want it.

MICHAEL: That's what I thought.

Jason takes the headphones off.

JASON: What?

MICHAEL: Nothing. Forget it.

JASON: When is the band going to start?

MICHAEL: Shortly. They're having a few technical malfunctions.

JASON: Rebecca's nervous.

MICHAEL: Which I'm spinning as a technical malfunction.

JASON: Good job.

MICHAEL: And they are having actual technical problems -- something about...something. I don't know. I wasn't really listening.

JASON: You're a really good friend, have I mentioned that recently?

MICHAEL: ...I'm sorry, what? I wasn't paying attention.

JASON: Where's Angela?

MICHAEL: Inside. Talking to people. Having fun. You know, what people do at parties.

JASON: Is that it? I thought they just got drunk and had sexual encounters they'll regret.

MICHAEL: They do that, too. Hence, the beer I brought you.

JASON: When in Rome?

MICHAEL: Exactly.

JASON: No, thanks.

MICHAEL: Suit yourself.

JASON: She's really having fun in there?

MICHAEL: Either that, or she's faking it a lot better than you.

JASON: She's pissed at me.

MICHAEL: No.

JASON: She's pissed at me.

MICHAEL: No. No. No. A bit.

JASON: Dammit.

MICHAEL: Well, what do you want from her?

JASON: Actually, what I'd really like is to not have this conversation.

MICHAEL: You started it.

JASON: And I'm ending it, too, how about that.

MICHAEL: All right. Probably for the best.

JASON: Right. How much longer is this party going to last?

MICHAEL: Well, Patrick said the band will probably end its last set around one.

JASON: What time is it now?

MICHAEL: Seven-fifteen.

JASON: I'm not gonna make it.

MICHAEL: Yes, you are. And you know what you're going to do?

JASON: Kill you and hide your body so well even I won't be able to find it again?

MICHAEL: You're going to talk to people.

JASON: I am not.

MICHAEL: You are. You're going to actually go out and talk to complete strangers. Engage them in conversation. Girls these days like that kinda thing.

JASON: You want to cheer me up by sending me out to do the one thing in this world I can't do well at all?

MICHAEL: That's not true.

JASON: It's not?

MICHAEL: No. There's lots of things you can't do well at all.

JASON: There are lots of things.

MICHAEL: Okay, and you gotta stop that.

JASON: Why?

MICHAEL: 'Cause it makes you sound like a...asshole.

JASON: It makes me sound like an asshole.

MICHAEL: Seriously. Stop talking to me, turn around, and talk to some girls.

JASON: But I have nothing to talk about.

MICHAEL: Sure you do. You know movies, talk about movies.

Jason starts to answer, but Michael interrupts.

MICHAEL: Actually, on second thought, you scare the hell out of people when you start talking about movies. Don't do that.

JASON: I was about to say.

MICHAEL: Uh, politics?

JASON: I don't know anything about politics.

MICHAEL: Make it up.

JASON: Make it up?

MICHAEL: Yeah. This is a party, not The O'Reilly Factor, you're not going to get docked for a wrong answer. As long as you have a passionate opinion, you'll be fine.

JASON: So, "Democrats are soulless and evil"?

MICHAEL: Yeah, that works, but I'd go with Republicans instead if I were you.

JASON: Why?

MICHAEL: Because you're a Democrat.

JASON: I am?

MICHAEL: Yes.

JASON: Okay.

MICHAEL: And talk about the news, current events, that stuff.

JASON: I don't watch the news, either. And the only current events I'm aware of are the science geeky stuff.

MICHAEL: Look, just go, okay. Go go go. I'll be here when you get back.

JASON: Yeah, yeah, to cheer me up some more.

MICHAEL: That's right.

Jason walks off toward the crowd.

MICHAEL: And my iPod, can I have that back?

JASON: Yeah.

He stops, pulls it out of his pocket, gives it back to Michael, then walks away.

Michael struggles with the two beers and his iPod for a moment, and then puts one of the bottles on the ground behind him.

Angela steps out of the house drinking a can of soda. She strides up to Michael.

ANGELA: Miguel.

MICHAEL: Where's Kathy?

ANGELA: Um, let's see. [looks around] Yeah, I don't know.

MICHAEL: Why not?

ANGELA: 'Cause I don't.

MICHAEL: But she's your friend.

ANGELA: Yeah, she's my friend. We're not part of a hive mind. We still rely on primitive vocal communication.

MICHAEL: Well, that's awfully inefficient.

ANGELA: This isn't going to work.

MICHAEL: It will.

ANGELA: Not. It will not.

MICHAEL: It might.

ANGELA: Ten bucks says it doesn't. And twenty says that when it doesn't, he'll get pissed at me about it.

MICHAEL: ...Ten bucks. When we bet, it's always ten dollars, nothing else. It's a rule.

ANGELA: Yeah, well -- wait, it's a rule? Since when?

MICHAEL: Halloween. Three years ago. Jason made it a rule.

ANGELA: ...The Stormtrooper outfit?

MICHAEL: Yep.

ANGELA: He lost a bet?

MICHAEL: Yeah. What, you thought he wore that costume by choice?

ANGELA: Well. It's...Jason. I just assumed...

MICHAEL: Oh, man.

ANGELA: It was Halloween! I didn't know him then. And later, when I did know him...frankly, it seemed to...fit.

MICHAEL: Actually, the costume didn't fit at all. But what the hell were we talking about?

ANGELA: The bet. Twenty bucks. You just got raised. Call or fold, buddy.

MICHAEL: You've been watching those poker shows on ESPN-8 or whatever, haven't you?

ANGELA: Yeah, the new satellite service we have is fantastic. You in or out?

MICHAEL: Well. You remember what Kenny Rogers said.

ANGELA: ..."Why didn't someone tell me I looked like Ulysses S. Grant?"

MICHAEL: No. Well, yeah. But also, "You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em."

ANGELA: I thought that was Maya Angelou.

MICHAEL: Common mistake. I'm in.

ANGELA: Sucker.

He gestures at the discarded beer on the ground with a foot.

MICHAEL: You want this beer?

ANGELA: None for me. I have to drive home.

MICHAEL: Drink it. Jason can take us, he drove his own car.

ANGELA: He won't take me home.

MICHAEL: Why not?

ANGELA: 'Cause he'll be angry at me, remember?

MICHAEL: Right. You're always thinking.

ANGELA: And don't you drive home, either.

MICHAEL: I won't. I've got three or four people here I convinced to come so that I would potentially have a ride. Plus you. And Jason.

ANGELA: How responsible.

MICHAEL: No, just lazy. I didn't even drive here; I got a ride from Patrick.

ANGELA: Ah. Well, you clearly got the brains in your family.

MICHAEL: No, California got the brains.

ANGELA: Heh. Right.

MICHAEL: Hey. I'm serious.

ANGELA: Oh.

MICHAEL: Everyone thinks she's a ditz, but she got something like a 1440 on her SATs. She's way smarter than me.

ANGELA: I had no idea.

MICHAEL: Yeah. Cali got the brains. Carter got the self-confidence, the outgoingness, and the complete lack of respect for authority.

ANGELA: What'd you get?

MICHAEL: The malice.

ANGELA: A lot of that in your family?

MICHAEL: You have no idea.

Carter and Cali enter from the hole in the fence. Carter's smoking and already has a beer in one hand.

CARTER: Mikey!

MICHAEL: Speak of the devil.

Carter gives his brother an inebriated embrace.

MICHAEL: Isn't it kind of impolite to get drunk before the party?

CALI: I tried to tell him that, but I'm just a silly girl.

CARTER: Aw, quit whinin'. 'Sup, uh...Rebecca?

ANGELA: Angela.

CARTER: That's right. Rebecca's the other one. I'm bad with chicks' names.

ANGELA: Just chicks?

CARTER: Yeah.

CALI: Where's the beer?

MICHAEL: As far away from you as possible.

CALI: Oh, Michael--

MICHAEL: You're eighteen. You're not drinking.

CALI: Come on! It's a party. And I turn nineteen next month.

MICHAEL: Okay, maybe. Let me think about it for a little while. You know, a couple years or so.

CALI: Carter doesn't care when I drink.

MICHAEL: Carter's a convicted felon.

CARTER: Hey!

MICHAEL: Well, you are.

CALI: Just one. Or three. Please.

MICHAEL: Why the hell are you asking me? You're an adult. Do what you want. I don't think you have to worry about being grounded.

CALI: But I do have to worry about your self-righteous bitching.

MICHAEL: And where's Anthony?

CALI: Not coming. Got called into work.

Unnoticed by Michael or Cali, Carter shoots a look at Angela and exhales his cigarette smoke quite loudly. If this is a secret code, Angela doesn't understand it.

MICHAEL: Bummer. He's gonna miss "D'Yer Mak'er."

CALI: Aw yeah! And "Patience," right?

MICHAEL: Unless Patrick wants to die. Which, actually, by this point...

CALI: Okay. Angela, show me to the drinks.

ANGELA: The beer, which you really shouldn't be drinking, is inside. C'mon.

The two girls head inside. On her way past, Cali notices the iPod Michael is still holding.

CALI: You brought your iPod to a party?

MICHAEL: No, Jason brought my iPod to a party.

CALI: Oh. Where is he?

MICHAEL: Mingling.

CALI: Jason is mingling?

MICHAEL: I threatened to take away his DS9 DVDs. He knows what's best for him.

CALI: You're so mean.

Cali and Angela walk inside. Michael puts the iPod in his pocket.

Carter puts an arm on Michael's shoulders and leans in conspiratorially.

CARTER: Anthony's sleeping with another guy.

MICHAEL: What?!

CARTER: Uh-huh. He says he's....Wait, what did I say?

MICHAEL: That Anthony's sleeping with another guy.

Carter lets out a loud string of drunken laughs.

CARTER: No no no no. Anthony's sleeping with another woman. Damn.

MICHAEL: Okay. A little less shocking.

CARTER: I gotta lay off the Jaeger.

MICHAEL: That'd be a good idea. Anyway?

CARTER: ...What?

MICHAEL: Anthony's sleeping with another woman?

CARTER: Oh, yeah. Totally. Bummer, huh?

MICHAEL: How do you know?

CARTER: I just do.

MICHAEL: Meaning?

CARTER: Meaning, I know. I know how guys act when they're sleeping around. I've done it a lot.

MICHAEL: So, you know nothing.

CARTER: Well, I ain't got pictures or anything, if that's what you're saying. I just know. He says he's "working late," but no way. I know better.

MICHAEL: You haven't said anything to Cali, have you?

CARTER: No. She wouldn't believe me. That's why you gotta.

MICHAEL: Hell no.

CARTER: Her husband's banging someone else, she should know.

MICHAEL: Yes, if he actually is, which we don't know. And I'm not saying anything unless I know it for a fact.

CARTER: A'right. Whatever, man.

MICHAEL: And it has to be me?

CARTER: Yeah. I told you. She won't believe me. 'Cause I'm a convicted felon. You know.

MICHAEL: I'm sorry about that.

CARTER: No, you're not.

Carter lights another cigarette, then picks up the unwanted beer at Michael's feet.

CARTER: I'm gonna talk to people. See ya later.

MICHAEL: See ya.

Carter walks into the crowd.

Unseen and unnoticed by, well, anyone, a small group of people comes through the fence. One of them is Vanessa, whom we might recognize if we have really good memories. The group merges with the rest of the Extras.

MICHAEL: Okay. Now, to actually have fun.

Patrick comes out of the house and runs to Michael.

PATRICK: Mike!

MICHAEL: Oh, shit.

PATRICK: How's it going?

MICHAEL: Not good. When are you guys gonna start?

PATRICK: Just a bit. Rebecca broke a string on her bass, we had to send Danny to get a replacement.

MICHAEL: She doesn't keep spares?

PATRICK: Usually, yeah.

MICHAEL: Then why doesn't she have any with--

PATRICK: Hey, why don't we stop pointing fingers, okay? It's a mistake, it's being fixed.

MICHAEL: ...'kay.

PATRICK: I'm actually beginning to think this might have been a mistake.

MICHAEL: You've been pressuring her for weeks. Now that she finally caved, you're gonna--

PATRICK: No, I mean, this party.

MICHAEL: The party?

PATRICK: Yeah. We've never played for this many people before.

Mike looks around.

MICHAEL: Doesn't look like that many.

PATRICK: Out here, no. But the house is packed full. They're spilling into the front yard.

MICHAEL: No shit?

PATRICK: Yeah.

MICHAEL: Man. Driving out of here is gonna be a bitch.

PATRICK: Uh, yeah, that's what concerns me, Mike. Glad to know you're with me on that.

MICHAEL: You're nervous.

PATRICK: No, I'm not.

MICHAEL: You are, too.

PATRICK: No, I'm fine.

Jason returns from the crowd.

JASON: Hey, Patrick. Big crowd. You nervous?

PATRICK: No!

Some of the crowd turns to look at him

PATRICK: Okay, that was way too loud.

MICHAEL: You are supposed to be mingling.

JASON: I was.

MICHAEL: Slaloming around other people who are actually talking does not count.

JASON: Hey. Baby steps, okay?

PATRICK [mostly to himself]: Oh, this is gonna be a disaster.

MICHAEL: Hey, it's all right to be nervous. I mean, Rebecca's nervous, too, right?

PATRICK: No, she's psyched.

MICHAEL: You told me she was nervous. That she was shaking.

PATRICK: Yeah, I was lying.

MICHAEL: Ah-ha.

PATRICK: She's feeling great. She's been back there strutting like a rock star. Seems to have gotten the idea that since I practically begged her to do this, I'm like, beholden to her or something.

JASON: Yeah, she's pretty much right on the money. And there was no "practically," you did beg her.

PATRICK: She's been making her fetch her drinks, make her a sandwich. She even tried to make me go get her bass strings.

MICHAEL: Which you were supposed to bring with the rest of the gear, but forgot?

PATRICK: What did I say about pointing fingers?

MICHAEL: Okay.

PATRICK: ...There's a lot of gear, Michael, is what I'm saying.

MICHAEL: Okay, Patrick.

PATRICK: If I don't stop her soon, she's gonna be all Van Halen with the "No green M&M's," like some rock star Joan Crawford.

MICHAEL: All this, and we still have "D'Yer Mak'er" to look forward to.

PATRICK: Don't remind me.

JASON: And it's pronounced--

BOTH: We don't care.

JASON: I care.

MICHAEL: We don't care so much about that, either.

Rebecca appears in the doorway.

REBECCA: Hey, Patrick! Danny's back.

PATRICK: Gotta go.

MICHAEL: Good luck.

JASON: Break a leg.

Patrick runs back into the house, taking Rebecca with him.

JASON: It was brown M&M's.

MICHAEL: What?

JASON: Van Halen. It was brown M&M's, not green. And it wasn't an ego trip, it was a safety precaution. They wanted to make sure the promoter had read and complied with the technical riders in their contract, so they buried a directive about M&M color in the middle of it as a quick test.

MICHAEL: Okay. Did you just tell me all that because you honestly felt you needed to defend the integrity of David Lee Roth, or was it another manifestation of your obsessive need to remind us all that you know more than we do?

Jason looks at him for a beat.

JASON: And it's pronounced "Jamaica."

MICHAEL: I'm getting another beer.

JASON: Can I have the iPod back?

MICHAEL: No.

Michael walks inside.

JASON: Go ahead, leave me here.

Jason stands alone again for a few moments.

A young woman with black hair walks out from the doorway. She glances around for a minute, then her eyes settle on Jason.

This is KATHY.

She walks up to him. As she approaches, Jason's muttering to himself.

JASON [with British accent]: Here I am, brain the size of a planet, what have I got to show for it...

KATHY: Excuse me?

JASON [accent gone]: Hmm?

KATHY: You seemed to be talking to yourself.

JASON: Oh. Sorry. I do that sometimes. Bad habit.

KATHY: I can think of worse ones.

JASON: Yeah.

KATHY: I'm Kathy.

JASON: Jason.

KATHY: Nice to meet you.

JASON: You, too.

KATHY: So how come you're over here by yourself?

JASON: Oh, I'm waiting for a friend to come back. Though, probably, he isn't going to.

KATHY: Why not?

JASON: I'm really, really irritating.

KATHY: Are you?

JASON: Intensely.

KATHY: Thanks for the warning.

JASON: All part of the service.

She laughs. It's not pretty. It's not Fran-Drescher-on-uppers bad, but it's not pretty.

JASON: Um, yeah.

KATHY: Yeah.

JASON: So.

KATHY: So.

Neither says anything for a few moments.

Michael and Angela come out of the house, but remain by the door, watching Jason and Kathy.

JASON: So...

KATHY: ...Yeah?

JASON: So, Pluto's not a planet anymore.

KATHY: It's not?

JASON: Nope.

KATHY: ...Did it blow up or something?

JASON: No. They just decided it wasn't a planet anymore.

KATHY: They can do that?

JASON: Apparently.

KATHY: Huh. Well, I don't see why we needed a planet named after a dog, anyway.

JASON: Uh, no. No. No no.

KATHY: Yeah, it was, he was Mickey's dog.

JASON: No. I mean, yes, Pluto was Mickey's dog, but Pluto the planet wasn't named after the dog. It was named after Pluto, the god of the underworld.

KATHY: Oh. Okay, that makes a little more sense.

JASON: All the planets other than Earth are named for gods. Neptune, the god of the sea. Mars, the god of war.

KATHY: I thought that was Ares.

JASON: It was, in Greek mythology. The Romans called him Mars. [beat] Wait, you know Ares, but you think they named a planet after a cartoon dog?

KATHY: Well, I didn't know anything about the Roman stuff. I know the Greek gods, though. Well, some of 'em.

JASON: ...You watched Xena: Warrior Princess, didn't you?

KATHY: Oh, yeah! That show was great, huh?

JASON [No]: Um...yeah. Totally.

Kathy unleashes another laugh. This one's a little worse.

Cali pushes her way past Michael, drink in hand. She spots Jason talking to Kathy, shoots a look at Angela, then wanders off, toward the back of the crowd.

KATHY: Well, there was that other show I liked, I don't remember what it was called. It had that guy, you know, he had that weird hair.

JASON: ...Not sure.

KATHY: You know, it was--

Louis, who we've seen in the crowd at various points, walks through it now and accidentally bumps into Kathy.

LOUIS: Hey!

KATHY: Watch where you're going!

LOUIS: Me? You were--oh, hey, Jason.

JASON: Hey.

LOUIS: ...Yeah.

Louis walks off, argument with Kathy forgotten.

KATHY: That guy looks familiar.

JASON: You go to Bazemore?

KATHY: No, Clear Creek.

JASON: Hmm. He works at Pizza Dome.

KATHY: That's it! Pizza Dome. I go there a lot.

JASON: Yeah, he's a cook.

KATHY: You know what I've always wondered? How do the delivery drivers get those big glowy signs to stay on top of their cars? I mean, I forgot a stereo up there once, and it flew off and broke.

JASON: ...You've...always wondered that?

KATHY: Well, it's a mystery. I mean, I s'pose they could weld 'em on or somethin', but I'm pretty sure I've seen those drivers driving around without the signs. And what about if they quit? And I don't think glue would hold.

JASON: Magnets. There are magnets on the sign. That's what holds it to the car.

KATHY: Oh! Yeah, that does make sense, doesn't it? Ha--welding! What's wrong with me?

She laughs again. Jason cringes.

Michael steps forward and offers Jason another beer.

MICHAEL: Want this?

JASON: No--wait. What is it?

MICHAEL: Coors Light.

JASON: Does it taste good?

MICHAEL: No.

JASON: But it's got alcohol?

MICHAEL: Yeah.

JASON: Give it.

Jason grabs it and takes a big chug, then grimaces.

JASON: Oh--true apothecary...

He drinks some more.

Michael offers one to Kathy.

KATHY: No, thanks, Mike.

MICHAEL: Okay.

He walks back over, past Angela, and back into the house.

Jason takes another grimace-inducing swig of beer, and then something occurs to him.

JASON: You know Michael?

KATHY: Yeah, of course.

JASON: ...Of course.

KATHY: Yeah. We all went to that Astros game a few months ago. I think you were sick.

JASON: Ah. Right. You work with Angela, don't you?

KATHY: Yeah.

JASON: Of course you do. I remember her mentioning you now. You were asked to talk to me, weren't you?

KATHY: Well...yeah...

JASON: Okay. Thank you. Sorry you wasted our--your time.

Jason marches over to Angela, who is waiting for him. Kathy disappears into the crowd.

JASON: What do you want from me?

ANGELA: Pardon?

JASON: What do you--?

ANGELA: I heard you. I want to know what you meant.

JASON: I meant...What do you want from me? You asked me to back off, I did. You asked to not talk about it, I haven't. You want to pretend it never happened, I'm pretending my ass off. So why are you sending your coworkers to block for you? Just because I'm not running around dancing with joy means you gotta throw herrings on the trail to distract me? 'Cause I'm incapable of getting over--

ANGELA: All right, I'm gonna stop you right there, 'cause I'm either gonna start laughing or yelling, and I don't really want to do either. I did throw any herrings on the trail. I didn't send Kathy over to talk to you.

JASON: But I asked if she'd been told to talk to me. She said she had.

Around this point, we see Vanessa in the crowd, nearby. She starts eavesdropping.

ANGELA: But she probably didn't say she'd been sent by me, because I didn't. I knew that would be stupid, and I have more respect for you than that.

JASON: Then who doesn't have respect--Michael.

ANGELA: That's right. And I knew it was a bad idea from the beginning. I told him so, but I was ignored. Though I must say you've won me quite a bit of money for comically overreacting the way you did. Thank you.

JASON: Overreacting?

ANGELA: Yeah, Jason, overreacting. I told Michael it was a bad idea because I knew you'd react badly to it, not because it was a repugnant insult to your decency. I mean, the guy tried to set you up with an attractive woman you'd never talk to you on your own. What a bastard.

She turns to the door.

ANGELA: I'm going inside now. The band should be starting in a few minutes. You coming?

JASON: ...In a minute.

ANGELA: Okay.

She goes inside.

Jason watches her go, stares for a minute, then downs the rest of his beer in one long chug. He gasps for air and gags.

JASON: Jesus, how the hell do people stand his stuff long enough to get drunk?

VANESSA: It helps if you have something stronger.

JASON: Huh? Oh, hey, Vanessa.

VANESSA: What's up?

JASON: Oh, you know. Same old, same old. SSDD.

VANESSA: You know, you guys used to say that all the time, and I still don't know what it means.

JASON: "Same shit, different day." It's a reference to a Stephen King--never mind. How are you?

VANESSA: Not bad. Angela's pissed at you?

JASON: No! No. A little.

VANESSA: Well, if you're hoping to wash it away in a drunken haze, you're never gonna get there with Coors Light.

JASON: Yeah. I was thinking of removing my own brain with a spork. It would be faster. And more enjoyable, I think.

VANESSA: Come on--they're keeping the good stuff in the back.

JASON: The good stuff?

VANESSA: Oh yeah. More alcohol, better taste. I'll show you.

JASON: Lead the way.

They walk to the back of the crowd.

Michael comes outside and looks around.

MICHAEL: Huh. I've manage to lose my brother, my sister, and two of my roommates in five minutes.

He starts to go back inside, but a peppy redhead comes through the hole in the fence and spots him. This is SHANNON.

SHANNON: Michael!

MICHAEL: Oh, hey, Shannon. You made it.

SHANNON: Yes, I did. Got someone to cover my shift at the last minute. I thought they'd be started by now.

MICHAEL: Not yet. Guitar string emergency. Should be going any second now, though.

SHANNON: Ah, then I'm just in time.

MICHAEL: Well, let's go. We don't want to miss "D'Yer Mak'er."

SHANNON: Huh?

MICHAEL: Oh, it's a Zeppelin song they're gonna play.

SHANNON: Zeppelin. Oh, you mean, "Jamaica"?

Michael laughs.

MICHAEL: Do I know someone who would love you.

We hear the amplified voice of someone inside the house: "All right, you drunken bastards, I give you...SODA LAKE!" This is followed by applause and the opening bars of "Come Together."

Michael lets Shannon pass him to enter the house. He takes one last look around, sees no one he's looking for, then goes inside himself.


Scene 3 -- the house, about 4:00 a.m.

Michaels sits on the couch. Angela is lounged back in the chair nearest the kitchen. The house is dark and quiet.

ANGELA: I could buy some shoes.

MICHAEL: Yeah.

ANGELA: I need some.

MICHAEL: Sure.

ANGELA: Maybe a DVD or something. If I go to Wal-Mart, I could get two.

MICHAEL: You certainly could.

ANGELA: What do you think?

MICHAEL: It's your money, spend it how you want.

ANGELA: Yeah, but it used to be your money. I thought you'd like a say in how it was spent.

MICHAEL: Evanescence has a new CD coming out. You can buy that.

ANGELA: Evanescence sucks.

MICHAEL: They do not.

ANGELA: They suck. Just because you've got an infatuation with Amy Lee--

MICHAEL: I do not have an infatuation. My love for Amy Lee is real.

ANGELA: Well, then, I apologize.

MICHAEL: It's just that Christianity thing stopping us from being soul mates.

ANGELA: Yeah, that's right. Jesus is what's keeping you and Amy Lee apart.

MICHAEL: That and geography. She lives in Arkansas.

ANGELA: ...Should it bother me that you know that?

MICHAEL: Not at all. The shrine I'm building, on the other hand...

The phone rings. Michael answers it.

MICHAEL: Hello?...Hey...Well, that's good....Okay. Hey, you don't know where Jason is, do you?...What about my brother?...My sister?...All right. See ya.

He hangs up.

MICHAEL: Doctors say it's merely sprained, not broken. He'll be fine.

ANGELA: Good.

MICHAEL: And they don't know where Jason is, either.

ANGELA: Well, I'm not waiting up any longer. If it's an interesting story, I'm sure I'll hear about it tomorrow.

MICHAEL: G'night.

ANGELA: 'Night.

She exits to the hallway.

Michael walks over, turns on the Xbox and the television, and returns to the couch.

He plays alone for a few moments, then the front door opens, and Jason enters.

MICHAEL: Where'd you go?

JASON: ...I went to IHOP.

MICHAEL: Why'd you leave the party early?

JASON: ...I didn't.

MICHAEL: Yes, you did. You left before "Jamaica."

JASON: ...I heard it.

MICHAEL: No, you didn't, because if you did, you would have seen Patrick fall off the stage.

JASON: What?

MICHAEL: He got a little too into it at the end, lost his balance.

JASON: He all right?

MICHAEL: Sprained his wrist. He'll be fine.

JASON: Good.

Jason stumbles into the chair nearest the door.

MICHAEL: Are you drunk?

JASON: No. I was. But not now.

MICHAEL: You still look drunk to me.

JASON: Because you don't have two hours ago for comparison.

MICHAEL: I don't believe it. You got wasted, and I missed it.

JASON: Too bad.

MICHAEL: Hey, you didn't see what happened to my brother or sister, did you?

JASON: No.

MICHAEL: Damn.

Jason watches Michael play.

JASON: Where's Angela?

MICHAEL: She went to bed.

JASON: She okay?

MICHAEL: She's fine. She's polling for ways to spend my thirty dollars.

JASON: Thirty?

MICHAEL: Ten for it not working, and twenty for you getting mad at her.

JASON: Twenty dollars? That's against the rules.

MICHAEL: I tried to explain that to her, but she's a madwoman. Couldn't be stopped.

Jason watches Michael play some more.

JASON: I may have done something really stupid tonight, Michael.

MICHAEL: She's not that pissed at you. Disappointed, probably, but she's more pissed at me.

JASON: I'm not talking about Angela.

MICHAEL: Huh?

JASON: I may have done something really stupid tonight.

MICHAEL: May have?

JASON: Yeah.

MICHAEL: Meaning, you may have done something that would have stupid, but you're not sure whether you did? Or you did something that may or may not have been stupid.

It takes Jason a minute to get a handle on the question.

JASON: I did something. It may have been stupid. Probably was.

MICHAEL: Ah. Well, as long as she doesn't know your real name, you should be fine. That's what my brother taught me.

Jason doesn't respond.

Michael stops playing and gapes at him.

MICHAEL: Oh, no fucking way.

JASON: Shh.

MICHAEL: You gotta be kidding me.

JASON: Didn't I just say "Shh"?

MICHAEL: That's why you left early? Because you got drunk and had a sexual encounter you're regretting?

JASON: ...When in Rome.

MICHAEL: Holy shit.

JASON: Why are you so surprised?

MICHAEL: Because that idea never occurred to me. You always make fun of everyone else when they act like that, I never thought you'd be such a huge hypocrite.

JASON: Oh. Um, thanks?

MICHAEL: So. Who was it?

JASON: No.

MICHAEL: Oh, come on.

JASON: I'm not giving you her name?

MICHAEL: Why not? Do I know her?

JASON: I'm not telling you anything.

MICHAEL: ...Wait a minute. Danny told me that between sets he thought he saw you drinking with Vanessa. I thought he was crazy.

JASON: ...Yeah?

MICHAEL: Did he?

JASON: How the hell should I know?

MICHAEL: Well, if you weren't drinking with Vanessa, then he probably didn't.

JASON: He may have.

MICHAEL: Oh, my god!

JASON: Again, shh.

MICHAEL: You got drunk and slept with Vanessa?

JASON: I told you, I'm not telling you anything.

MICHAEL: Oh, you did!

JASON: I will neither confirm nor deny any accusations you make.

MICHAEL: Yeah, you're right. That was stupid.

JASON: Don't say anything.

MICHAEL: What?

JASON: Don't say anything. To anyone. Please?

MICHAEL: Oh, no worries. I won't tell a soul you got hammered and nailed Vanessa.

JASON: Trying to trick me into confirming or denying won't work. Though it was pretty clever, what you did with "hammered" and "nailed," there.

MICHAEL: Thanks.

The front door opens. Rebecca enters.

REBECCA: Hey.

MICHAEL: Where's Patrick?

REBECCA: Crashing at Danny's. Thought you'd tease him less if he waited a day before coming back.

MICHAEL: Well, that's just stupid.

REBECCA: Told him that.

MICHAEL: All right, now that everyone in this house is accounted for, I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow.

REBECCA: Goodnight.

Michael exits. Rebecca sits on the couch.

REBECCA: So: where'd you go?

JASON: ...Nowhere.

Lights out.