All language subtitles for Submission.2017.720p.BluRay.H264.AAC-RARBG-eng

Euston College
was first founded in the early 1800's

by Elijah Euston,

primarily to educate
his six sons and seven daughters.

Why he felt the need to educate them

at a college this isolated and inbred,

isn't readily available.

As a novelist with one moderately
successful book under my belt,

I arrived at this well-paying
but lower-tier institution

with wife and child in tow,

the promise of
health insurance beckoning.

A short-term gig, I thought,

fully expecting my second novel
to offer me a reprieve

and save me from obscurity.

That was a decade ago.

I had been touted as,
"An author to watch."

Little did I realize
that that christening

would turn into my eulogy.

SWENSON". Okay, so what did
everybody think?

What did anybody think?

Look at them,
they're shell-shocked.

They look like cartoon characters
hearing birdies tweet.

What engaged you?

Maybe it's a conspiracy.

Three stories about sex with animals
and the term's just begun.

Meg, Why don't you jump in?

I thought it was disgusting.

Positives first, please.

You can always find
something nice to say.

SWENSON". Unless you're a critic.
Or my first editor.

- His spelling wasn't offensive.
- Up yours.

He wanted something positive.

That was the only positive thing
I had to say.

Actually the spelling is
the least of your worries...

Then again,
maybe I should be grateful

for any student work

with a shred of vitality and life,
even if it is about bestiality.

It's more than I seem to have
at the moment.

ls something wrong, Professor Swenson?

- Why do you ask?
- You groaned. Twice.

- Did I?
- Can you blame him?

That part where Danny did what he did
to that chicken

was just really, really gross.

I agree with Meg. I thought the scene
in the kitchen came out of nowhere.

Seemed totally bogus.

Okay, so then what would we do
to make it not seem "totally bogus"?

As Carlos says.

Always quote the students,
if possible.

Makes them feel like
they're being taken seriously.

I'd change the boy's character

so that we know
he's the kind of person

who'd do something like that.

He should be really pissed
at the waitress, so when he goes home,

- he's acting out this pent-up rage.
- Here we go.

The "suggestions" that make
a bad story worse.

When I first started teaching,
I'd settle for nothing less

than the whole class
falling in love with me.

Now I just want
to get through the hour

without major psychic damage.

Okay. All right. Okay.

So then, does everyone agree
with these suggestions?

I think they kinda suck.

All right, Angela.

Will you tell us why you think
they "kinda suck"?

I guess I just kind of liked
the way that it ended.

I thought it was so weird
and unexpected.

I mean, that's, like,
the whole point, isn't it?

That anyone can do
something like that?

This guy is getting home
from a really shitty date.

He just goes home, opens the fridge,
sees the chicken there

and does it, right?

Guys are always surprising themselves
doing crazy shit like that.

Even if they think
that they're not a kind of guy

that would do crazy shit like that.

Yeah, most guys
would not bone a chicken.

Yeah. I know what most guys would do.

Okay, well, Angela does
bring up a good point.

She has a point.

Ryan doesn't do what he does

because he's a naturally
violent person

or because his girlfriend
bought chicken and he hates chicken.

It's the rejection that has
caused him to do "crazy shit,"

as Angela says.

Right, now we've all been there.

Which is why we can see
that he is like us.

Okay, to be continued next week.

Very good.
Who's on the hot seat next week?

Who is it?

Angela, okay, great.

So this will be your first time
I think, right?

- Actually...
- So we promise to go easy on you.

Don't we?

- No, you're not.
- Actually, I'm not finished yet.

I, um, was hoping I could
come talk to you

during your office hours tomorrow?

Yeah. Just remind me
when I have office hours.

Tomorrow morning.

Really? I have morning office hours?

I'm more devoted than I thought I was.

That's great.

Then I will see you
tomorrow morning in my office

during my office hours.

- Thank you, Professor.
- Thank you.

All right, good luck.
Class dismissed.

- Thank you.
- Get out.

Um, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow.

Looking forward.

Hello?

- Nurse, I need some help. Quick.
- Shh!

- Sorry. I'm sorry.
- Ted, you scared me.

- Sorry. Come here.
- God.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

- Come here for one second.
- What are you doing?

Gonna have a little quickie.

- You can't do that.
- Why not?

- Because I'm at work.
- So what?

- Stop.
- We'll say it's therapeutic.

No.

There's a patient right next door
who's been vomiting

non-stop since this morning.

Great. My erection is gone.

Our jobs are safe.

He's like the fifth kid
I've seen today.

There must be something going around.

Well, let's go back home
and get under the covers,

where there are no germs.

We can't, we've got
that meeting, remember? Shit!

Which we're already late for.

Let me just tell Arlene
that I'm leaving.

Later though. A thorough check-up.

- I promise.
- Okay.

Okay, good.

I have here a copy of
the Euston College policy

on sexual harassment.

Every September, one receives
this in one's mailbox

along with changes to the health plan
and cafeteria hours.

And every September, one immediately
tosses it all into the trash.

I know I do, and it's my
unfortunate duty to write the thing.

Such an asshole.

But I thought we might all spend
a moment or two

going over it together.

I had a dream about Ruby last night.

Oh.

Yeah, we were driving and I told her
that I'm her father

and that I loved her

and that I only wanted
what was best for her.

What did she say?

She told me that she forgave me,

that she was actually relieved
that I broke them up.

Wow. What a wonderful dream.

I know.

And then this huge semi-truck
came hurtling towards us.

She screamed and I slammed
on the brakes.

And then I woke up.

God, maybe not
such a wonderful dream.

Hmm.

Call her again.

No. I think she just deletes
my messages

without even listening to them.

Surprise her. Drive down
and take her out for dinner.

I'm sure she could use a good meal.

But someplace within walking distance.

You don't want to take any chances.

Love you.

Me, you too.

I'm still up, what are you wearing?

Excuse me?

It's Angela Argo.

I'm sorry, I know you only gave out
your number for emergencies,

but I think we were
supposed to meet at 9:00?

Oh, shit. I mean yes, of course.

I'll be there in 15.

Are you sure? 'Cause if you're busy
writing or something...

No, no. The writing can wait.

Uh, l will see you in 15. Okay, bye.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Hi. I'm so sorry I'm late.

Oh, it's okay, don't worry about it.

I was kinda liking it actually.
You know, sitting here hiding out.

It's like when I was a kid,
I'd sit and read under the porch

when I was supposed to be at school.

Good. You're a reader, huh?

- Yes.
- Good.

Come on in. I won't bite.

- You're reading Jane Eyre?
- Yeah.

You liking it?

Oh, yeah. Yeah, I love it. It's cool.

I love that she's in this mad rage
the whole time

and then she finally
gets to marry the blind guy

who's just toasted his wife
in the attic. It's wild.

Yeah.

The trouble is, I'm reading it
for Professor Healy's class.

Text studies in Gender Warfare.

And it just kinda feels like
everything that we read

-is the same thing, you know?
- Yeah.

Like, the male patriarchy
sticking it to women.

And I understand
that you can say that,

but I also think
that not everything is the same.

True. Please, have a seat.

Um, anyway,
it's like my favorite book.

- Good.
- Except for yours.

Phoenix Time is like
my favorite book in the universe.

Oh, well, I'm very flattered. Thanks.

Yeah.

It saved my life, actually.

How do you mean?

Well, my therapist gave it to me
after my father killed himself.

And I won't bore you with the details
of the whole story

or anything, but, um,

it just really showed me

that people can get through
stuff like that.

I read it like a million times.

And also it's just
a really great book.

It's up there with Bronté
and Stendhal.

- Stendhal?
- The Red and the Black?

It's another favorite of mine.

- Really?
- Mmm-hmm.

I'm actually working on
a postmodern retelling of that story.

It's my new novel.

- Oh, my God.
- Yeah.

That's amazing.

Huh.

- Can I ask you something?
- Sure.

What happened in your novel...

Did that really happen?

Well, I thought
we had discussed in class

that we wouldn't ask writers
questions like that.

This isn't class.

Um...

Yes. That is how my father died.

And my mother and I
watched it on television.

He was protesting the Vietnam War.

It was a celebrity death
for about 15 minutes.

So...

Wow.

Yeah.

-L'm writing a novel, too.
- Oh, great.

Oh, God, not that I'm comparing it
to yours or anything.

I shouldn't even call it that.
It's not a novel, it's just pages,

it's, um, like chapters
in search of a novel.

That's good. Well put.

And what's it called, your novel?

Eggs.

Eggs?

Eggs. It's very evocative.

Thanks.

And what is Eggs about?

Um, well,

actually, I'd like to just show it
to you if that's okay?

I brought the first chapter here.

I thought, um, I could give you
the first chapter

and you could read it
and let me know what you think,

and we could go
chapter-by-chapter, or not.

And, um, it's about halfway done.
I started last summer.

Why don't I read the first chapter
and then maybe we can put it up

and take a look at it
in next week's workshop?

- Whatever. You decide.
- Okay.

I just can't believe
Theodore Swenson's going to read

something that I've written.

I should just take it back
and start over

and throw it away probably.

I think my writing sucks.

No, that's what every
first-time writer thinks.

And, actually,
quite a few second-time writers.

So just take a deep breath.
Just breathe. It's all right.

Right. Breathe. Okay.

- Okay.
- Um, I will.

And also I know that there are,
like, four or five typos in there

and I was going to go back
and fix them but I didn't have time,

but I know that they're in there.

Don't worry about it, just...

- Just breathe.
- Yes, there you go.

And I'm really sorry
if before, when I called you,

if I interrupted something.

- If you were writing or something.
- Oh, no. Not at all.

- Not at all. Not at all.
- Sorry.

- Sorry I was late.
- You...

Oh, don't worry about it.
Thank you so much.

I really appreciate
you meeting with me. Okay, bye.

Okay.

SWENSON". "The Black and the Black,"
inspired, of course,

by Stendhal's "The Red and the Black."

Only now
the character of Julien Sore!

was a young sculptor with
a Black Panther dad

and a social climbing mom,

a guy who uses everyone he meets

in his ferocious scramble
up the art world ladder.

Race. Art. Ambition.

Hey, buddy, it's Len, your editor.
Remember me?

So when am I gonna see something?

You were supposed to send me a draft
three months ago. Call me.

Give my love to...

Every night after dinner,
I went out and sat with the eggs.

This was after my mother and I washed
the dishes and loaded the washer,

after my father dozed off
over his medical journals.

It was then that I slipped out
the kitchen door

and crossed the chilly backyard,

dark and loamy with the yeasty smell
of leaves just beginning to change.

Noisy with the rustle of them
turning colors in the dark.

For a moment I looked back
at the black frame of our house,

the whole place jumping and vibrating
with the dishwasher hum.

Then I entered the tool shed,
lit only by the incubator bulbs,

silent but for the whirring hearts
inside the fertilized eggs.

This was my 11th grade
biology project.

Officially, that is.

But underneath those charts,
those notebooks,

the racks of fertilized eggs,

my real project was black magic.

Casting spells for things
I shouldn't have wanted,

and longed for,

and finally got.

Like Mr. Reynaud, my science teacher.

Angela.

Angela.

- Hi. I read your chapter.
- Hi.

- Oh, shit. You hated it.
- What?

I could tell by the way
you were looking at me in class.

Not that you were looking at me,
but I could feel it.

You thought it sucked.

No, actually the opposite.

I think it's quite accomplished.

- Really?
- Yeah, I do. Yeah.

You're not just saying that
because you're afraid

if you tell me what you really think

I'm gonna go kill myself
in my dorm room?

No. No, that's not why I'm saying it.

I'm telling you the truth.

I really, really, really enjoyed it.

- Ted, hi!
- Hey, how are you?

- L'm good.
- Good. Good.

We're on a break. I left some papers
in the office, as usual.

- You know Angela.
- I do know Angela.

- It's nice to see you again.
- You too, Professor.

Um, we're just talking
about Angela's novel.

- Her novel?
- Yeah.

Wow. That's impressive.

- Yeah.
- He's just being nice.

- No, not really.
- But thanks.

- Please call me, let's have lunch.
- Okay. l will. l will. Okay.

I found the typos. I made corrections.

Just keep writing.

Do you want to discuss it in class?

Oh, God, no. No.

You have to be very careful
to whom you show this now.

Don't listen to what anyone says.
I mean it.

Not even me.

Especially me.

WOW. Uh...

Oh, my God,
that makes me so happy.

Just... Thank you.

You're welcome. Good job.

Can I give you
another couple of pages?

I'm sorry?

I understand if you, like,
need a break or something, but...

And it's not like reading
a real writer's work,

I know that, but... It's... If you...

I understand if you don't want to.

No, it would be my pleasure.

It just... It means the world.

- Okay, bye.
- Bye.

"A little-known fact
about eggs," Mr. Reynaud said.

"During the equinox and solstice,

you can actually balance
one on its end."

I never tried to balance an egg
during the equinox or the solstice.

I don't believe in astrology.

But I knew that my life
was like that egg,

and the point it balanced on

were the few minutes
I got to stay after class

and talk to Mr. Reynaud.

Hi. Hi, I'm sorry I'm late.

Oh, hi. No, no, no. No problem.

- Hello.
- Hi. Hi.

I had to go to Montpelier.
They were holding this book for me.

Oh.

- Dog Poems.
- Yes.

Oh, this is one of my favorites.

One of my freshman wrote
a poem about his dog dying.

So I thought if I could show them
something literary about animals,

we'd have some place to start.

See what a good teacher you are.

I mean, what you do for your students.

They write reviews of us.
Look what we all do.

Can I get a white wine, please?
Thank you.

See, if it were my students,

they would be having sex
with the dead dogs.

Or at least writing about it.

That's disgusting.

Yeah, but I can't say anything
because I would be repressing

their creative self-expressions, so...

So what do you say?

No.
I take the technical route.

"If you have a chicken
in a suburban refrigerator,

what's the texture like?
What's the temperature?

- What does it feel like?"
- Specificity?

- Yeah.
- Specificity, sure.

You make it seem so lascivious.

That is just a sexual harassment
lawsuit waiting to be filed.

Yeah, tell me about it. Yeah, yeah.

So how's Angela Argo doing?

- Do we know what we'd like?
- Yes.

I'll have the usual.

Chargrilled steak sandwich,
mashed potatoes

and a salad on the side.

- Yes.
- And I will have the very same thing.

- You got it.
- Thank you.

Why do you ask? Cheers.

Ask what?

About Angela Argo?

I'm just curious
how her novel's going.

Oh. Well, I have to say
it's surprisingly good.

The stuff she wrote for me was awful.

And she wrote a collection
of poetry for me that...

I may be a bit prudish,
but I found it terribly obscene.

Obscene?

Yikes.

Like how?

Dramatic monologues. And dialogues.

About a phone sex worker.

Angela 911.

Really?

So Euston is now admitting
former phone sex workers?

- I don't know.
- But“

- Do you think that she was actually...
- I don't know.

I don't know. I don't wanna know.

- Hi. Thank you.
- Thank you.

Thank you very much. Thank you.

It's very confusing because
there was also multiple references

to the phone sex worker's
sexually abusive father.

One time we had a conference,
and she intimated they were true.

I wonder if that's the reason
he killed himself.

- He killed himself?
- Yeah.

She never mentioned that.

The end of spring semester,
I had a call

from Betty Hester at the library.

Mother Hubbard.

- That's mean.
-l'm sorry. I didn't say "old."

-ln any event.
- All right.

She called to say that Angela wanted
to donate a volume of her poems

to the Euston library as a gift.

Mmm-hmm.

So Betty reads some of these
and she is totally freaked out.

So what did you say?

I told her to just catalog
the goddamn thing.

'Cause nobody's ever going to
check it out except Angela.

Hmm.

"L'm the father of four daughters.
Three of them are sleeping.

One is awake and waiting for me.

I keep thinking of her tiny breasts.

My fingers between her legs."

- Ted?
- Huh?

Can I help you with something?

Oh, no, I'm good. Thank you. Thanks.

- Hello.
- Hi.

- So good to see you, Ted.
- Likewise.

- Yeah, it's been ages.
- Yeah.

Too busy writing to read?

I Wish.

Oh. My Dog Tulip.

Hmm.

I don't think I know this one.

Uh, Professor Moynahan recommended it.

- Oh. Well, it must be good then.
- I think so, yeah.

Okay, thanks.

- Uh-uh?
- Hmm?

- What about that one?
- Oh, I forgot.

Oh, dear.

I believe I know this author.

- Really?
- Yeah.

- Is she one of your students?
- Yeah, she is.

Uh-huh.

Oh, how fortunate for her.

-Okay.
-Okay.

- Send my love to Sherrie.
- I will.

- And to Ruby.
- Mmm-hmm.

- We're late.
- Ah, who cares?

Oh, I have missed these dinners.

These gatherings.

Lost souls pretending
that they're not dying of boredom

and angst in some provincial outpost.

Behave or I'll take you home
before dessert.

- Promise?
- Mmm-hmm.

Ugh. I hope she doesn't serve
jam trifle again.

Be nice. And no English accents.

Yes, ma'am.

It slipped out.

Can I interest you in some Marmite?

Marmite? I love Marmite.

I haven't had Marmite
since my Wanderjahr at Oxford.

- Ah!
- Wanderjahr.

I'm so glad you like it.
Most Americans don't.

- Oh!
- Hello.

Sherrie!

- Hi.
- How are you?

- Hello.
- Hello.

How are you?

Hello.

- Hi.
- Hi.

- Lovely to see you.
- Lovely to see you, too.

Sir.

- How are you?
- Good to see you.

- Everyone.
- Ted.

Can I interest you in some
Marmite hors d'oeuvres?

Ah. I never say no to Marmite.

Unless, of course, you're serving
it with steak and kidney pie.

There he is. Hello, Ted.

Splendid of you to come.

Something to wash
that down with, old man?

Yes. A vodka please, on the rocks.

A double.

Pellegrino, no ice please. Thank you.

We were just talking about the rigors
of the creative pursuit.

That's right. And now we can hear
what our author in residence

has to say on the subject.

- Hmm.
- How is your work going these days?

Well, sometimes fast,
sometimes slow. You know.

Ah.

The creative process
is very challenging.

But rewarding when it's good.

What are you working on?

Or is talking about
one's writing verboten?

Only to those who've yet
to read my previous work.

It's on my nightstand.
Scout's honor.

- Third from the top.
- Sure.

You're working on another novel?

Yes, um, but actually, I'd rather
extol the virtues of Marmite.

Don't let the sarcasm fool you.
He's very excited about it.

What's it about?

Oh, have you told us?
Sorry if I've forgotten.

No, actually, I don't think
I did tell you.

I don't think I really told anyone.
Not even my nearest and dearest.

Writers are a secretive bunch.

As if we're all just dying
to steal their ideas.

- We are.
- What's the title?

Throw us a breadcrumb. Come on.

Tease us, will you?
We do love to be teased.

Eggs.

It's called Eggs.

What an interesting title.

Uh, yeah.

I thought it was
The Black and the Black?

The wife's always
the last to know, isn't she?

Well, I think
they're both great titles.

- Thank you.
- Well, whatever it's called,

I've got no doubt it's going to be
another smashing success.

- Absolutely.
- Good for us.

- Yes.
- Yes.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

So how do Euston's best
and brightest strike you this year?

Well, I don't suppose
it'll come as a shock

to say that each year's entering class

seems to have read less
than last year's worst students.

The high schools are definitely
slacking off

on their Dryden and Pope.

You know, I sort of had
an interesting thing happen

the other day.

It was in my Intro to American Lit.
We were doing Poe.

So I thought I'd give them
a little bio, a little gossip really,

to make things more immediate,
give it a personal touch,

Well, that's what
we've been reduced to.

Fodder for the talk shows.

Poe and his thirteen-year-old
child-bride cousin

discussing their marital arrangements
with Ellen.

I'm sure everyone would tune in.

They would.
They would, though.

So, anyway, as I'm talking
about Poe's marriage,

the entire class gets quiet.

And when I asked them
what the matter was,

none of them would answer.

Until one young woman says,
"Are you telling us

that we've been studying
the work of a child molester?"

Oh, you've got to be kidding.

Poor Edgar Allan.

It's fascinating.

Have the rest of you found this, um,

heightened consciousness
about those issues?

I never talk to a female student
alone in my office

without the door wide open.

And I keep a tape recorder in my desk
just in case things get dicey.

Last week we were doing
Great Expectations

and one of my students,
a big beefy jock,

asked me if Dickens meant there
to be a homosexual thing

between Pip and Magwitch.

He was definitely trying to bait me.

Maybe he was just looking for
a classically sanctioned way

to come out.

I told him I didn't think Dickens

meant us to read
a gay subtext into the book

and we should consider
what the writer had intended.

Hmm.

The next day,
a female student told me

that the discussion had
made her feel very unsafe.

The way she said that word,
"unsafe," gave me the chills.

It's a perfectly ordinary word
with a perfectly valid meaning.

So, Lauren, do these things
come up with you?

Of course they come up.
I bring them up.

I want the students to feel safe,

this word that Dave finds so chilling.

Well, I want the students to be able
to come to me

if they are experiencing harassment
or anything, really.

I really take them very seriously.

- I have an idea.
- What's that, Ted?

I think that we have been
giving in without a fight.

That we've been knuckling under
to the most neurotic forces

of repression and censorship.

I think we need to help these people
get over their problems.

We should desensitize them,
the way the Scientologists do.

Lock them in a room
and shout dirty words at them

until they grow up.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Cocksucker. Motherfucker. Asshole.

- Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
- Okay.

Throw in a couple of cunts
while you're at it.

Oh!

I mean, just good old,
time-tested Anglo-Saxonisms.

And we will be doing
these people a favor.

Emotionally, spiritually,
educationally.

We'll be helping them grow up
a lot faster

than if we just coddle them
and indulge every whim and neurosis.

N just...

Ted's got Tourette's.

Late-onset, adult Tourette's.
It's a very rare condition.

Oh, good. Dessert.

I hope everyone has room
for a little jam trifle?

Yum.

"Late-onset Tourette's"?

- That's...
- I had to say something.

My God, Ted,
what the hell got into you?

"Throw in a couple of cunts"?

I kept expecting
your head to swivel around

and for you to projectile vomit.

I don't know, I think it was
the whole Poe on Ellen thing

thatjust pushed me
over the edge. It's just...

- Oh, you're driving.
- Yes, I'm driving.

God, what a bunch
of spineless idiots.

Imagine my father
seeing me wind up here?

He would've staged a hunger strike
to shut this place down.

- Ugh.
- Ugh.

Magda's got a huge crush
on you, you know.

Nobody gets a crush
on me anymore.

I'm too old.

He says, "ls this 859-6732?

Is this Angela 911?"

I say, "What would
you like to do tonight?"

He says, "I'm coming up
to you from behind.

My hand is over your mouth.

I'm bending you over a trash can,
making you open your legs.

You push your ass against me...

- Ted?
- Yeah.

- L'm going to bed.
- Okay. All right.

I'll be up in a bit.

"Just then, Eddie really
started to hate mirrors.

Eddie was glad there were no mirrors
on the bottom of the toilet bowls.

He would've had to see
his fat, pale jellyfish face..."

He says, "ls this Angela 911?"

I say, "What would
you like to do tonight?"

He says, "Listen to what I'm doing.

I'm pulling up your skirt,
slapping your thighs just lightly.

You feel my hardness
straining to find release.

- You unbutton my..."
- Coach?

Yeah?

That's it.

It's great. Really.

- Very brave work, Carlos.
- Thank you.

Good. What did everyone think?

Hey.

- Hey.
- Thanks.

For what you said.

Oh, yeah, sure.

Somebody understands me.

That part when the guy goes on and on
about the dog, that was amazing.

- Doofy.
- Yes. Right.

Doofy.

You walkin' across the quad?

I got like a half hour before
Western Lit. We could grab a coffee?

I... I can't. I have, um...

I gotta see what he thought
about my chapter,

I'm really nervous about it.

I think he probably hated it.

- Well, good luck.
- Thanks.

- I'll see you around.
- Okay.

Looks like you made his day.

Well, I was just telling the truth,
his story wasn't bad.

Yeah, and thank you for not letting
another class devolve into civil war.

Well, don't thank me too fast.
Nothing's for free, you know.

Oh. What's it going to cost me?

Time. Hard time.

This one really sucks.

Great. I can't wait to read it.

Um, it's from the mother's perspective

and it's about when
the parents first meet.

I know I've been
giving you so much stuff

so if it's too much, just let me know.

No. No, it's my pleasure.

Really. I, um...

Uh, just don't be upset with me
if it takes me, you know,

a few days to read it.

Yeah, yeah. No rush.

- Okay.
-l'll just be waiting by the phone.

- All right.
- All right. Thanks.

- I'll see ya.
- Okay. All right. See ya.

It was a morning
like any other. The alarm went off.

But when I tried to stand,

the room spun until it threw me
onto the floor.

I was terrified. I called a cab
and went to the hospital.

The doctor looked in my eyes,
my throat,

and said I had an ear infection.

Nothing to worry about.

But as soon as I stood up to leave,

I collapsed again
on the examining room floor.

Nurses ran in.

I woke up as the young doctor
was taking my pulse.

Are you all right?

Reader, we're married now.

How the hell
could she even know that?

Hey, I read...
I read your chapter.

Already? WOW.

- Yeah.
- I 'm flattered.

I'm just not so sure
that you need it,

you know, the parents meeting,
how they meet and...

ltjust seems a little bit
extraneous to me.

The reader needs to hear it.
For what's coming later.

But how did you come up with
the whole thing, anyway?

Um, I'm curious.

I mean, the earache and the,

uh, the falling down
and the meeting in the hospital.

It happened to someone
I knew in high school.

Why? You sound upset.
Is something wrong?

Oh, no. Oh, no. Um, no.

But we'll talk about it tomorrow.

Okay. Okay. Bye-bye.

Who was that?

Magda.

You're leading her on, you know?

She won't appreciate it in the end.

Will you help me with the groceries?

Of course.

L would love to.

Yes.

Danny is...
He's doing just wonderfully.

His narrative skills are growing
better by the day

and I must say he has
a very vivid imagination.

Well, he's always
loved creative writing.

Especially about animals.

Yeah, yeah. Yeah...

Excuse me. ls this Professor Swenson?

- Yes.
- Our Angela is in your class.

Oh, yes, of course. Yes.

Oh, I'll let you go. I just wanted
to see, in general, how he was doing.

Thank you for your inspiration.

Okay. Thank you.

- Hi.
- Hi.

- Hi. Amy.
- Hi. Amy.

I'm sorry we're late.
We left Jersey at 5:30 this morning

so we didn't have to pay
for another night's motel.

Sure, okay.

That's a little more information
than the professor needs.

- Hi.
- Mark.

- Hi, Mark. How are you?
- Hey. Good, good.

- Good, please have a seat.
- Thank you.

Thank you.

So, how is Angela doin'?

I mean, she told us
that we must come see you.

That you're the only teacher
that would have anything nice

to say about her.

Well, I'm sure you'll find
that that is not true.

No, she talks about
your class all the time.

You're like her hero.

She thinks you're the greatest writer
that ever lived.

Well, that's very flattering.
It's always good to have a fan.

Especially such a talented one.

- Oh.
- Oh.

She's always wanted to be a writer.

You know, I remember
when she started,

I bought her this computer.

And she used to print up
this little family newspaper.

Uh, stuff like how long she'd have
to wait in the morning

to get into the bathroom.

Hmm.

What, is something the matter?

Oh, no, no. I...
She told... It's just...

I had no idea that her
literary aspirations went back

to early childhood.

Oh, yeah, she's always had a way
with words that one, you know.

That was
your stepfather, right?

Of course. Why?

Oh, no, lwasjust, um...

I was curious because
the way he was talking, he...

He spoke as though
he had known you your whole life.

Since you were, like, a baby.

Oh, Well, he did.

Um, he lived next door
to us my whole life.

Him and his wife, and then,

after my dad killed himself,
about a year after,

him and his wife split up
and he married my mom.

It was a big neighborhood scandal.

Ah.

You know, I did lie
about something, though.

Um, my dad wasn't crazy, he was...

He was sick.

He had emphysema.

Oh.

I'm sorry.

Thanks.

I remember this, um, time
he took me grocery shopping,

and he got so winded,

he was wheezing and stuff,
he had to sit down.

And then I saw the check-out guy,
who I thought was really cute,

Um...

I saw him roll his eyes at the girl
that was bagging groceries.

And I was embarrassed.

And ever since he killed himself,
I think about that

every day, and I feel so guilty.

Why was I so mad at him?

But you weren't.

You weren't mad at him.

You were angry at the situation.

You were angry
because life is cruel and unfair.

Perfectly normal.

It was crooked.

- Thanks.
- Sorry.

Okay.

Mr. Reynaud looked closely.

His voice was calm,
full of compassion and tenderness

as he held the damaged egg
up to the light.

I started to cry.

"They're all dead
and it's my fault," I said to him.

They were supposed
to hatch ten days ago.

I knew something was wrong
but I didn't know what to do.

So I did nothing.

"Don't blame yourself," he said.

Soothing me with his gentle touch.

"Don It CW. ll

He wiped my tears.

His fingers caressing my face.

Our bodies melting together, our lips,

our tongues...

As his hands slipped under my jeans,

I made a sound so low in my throat

that even the unborn chicks
must have heard me.

Angela Argo here.

Hey, give me that,
you jerk-off. Stop.

You hated it, didn't you?

That's why you didn't call.

No, actually, I quite admired it.

- Really?
- Yeah.

- Because it was like...
- What?

I don't know. It was weird, I guess,
knowing you were reading those pages.

They were, like, really intimate
and I was so nervous.

I didn't sleep all night.

Angela, I'm a professor of literature.

A little eroticism
doesn't frighten me.

Good. Because now I can breathe.

I was just...

You know, I was imagining

you getting home and getting ready
for bed, or eating dinner,

and knowing
you were reading those pages

and wondering if you were like...

You know...

You know...

Anyway, I'm just really glad
you liked it. That's great.

Um...

Sorry to bother you
without an appointment.

When do I get more?

Um...

Well, at this point, probably never.

Yeah? Well, writer's block gets
the best of us sometimes, doesn't it?

No, it's not that.
Um, my hard drive just crashed

so I've got to get a new computer.

Oh.

Sorry to hear that.

Yeah.

Hey, listen,
maybe this is a stupid idea, um,

and you can absolutely say no,
in fact I expect you to say no,

but I just really
need a ride to Burlington.

My stepdad said I could buy
a new computer on his credit card.

I really want to buy it in person
because last time I bought it online

and it was defective and returning it
was a total nightmare.

Yeah. Look, it's not impossible.

But, um, I...

I... When I'm not here, I'm writing.

So I don't know that it will...

Right, I'm sure. Yeah.

I figured that was why you'd say no.

Well, can't your boyfriend
drive you, or...

I don't have a boyfriend.

Ah.

Oh, I thought you...

It's no big deal.

Um, I'll just put it on the shelf
for a little while.

Probably not such a bad idea anyway.

- Thanks again.
- All right.

What about tomorrow at 10:00?

- Really?
- Yeah.

- Yeah.
- Oh, my God, thank you so much.

Thank you. That would be great.

Um, yeah, I live in Hughes,

do you want to just pick me up
outside of my dorm?

- Yeah, perfect.
- Great.

We'll just go. We'll go,

we'll do it quickly
and then, uh, it'll be done.

- Okay? All right, great.
- Perfect.

- Thank you so much. Okay. See ya.
- All right, see you tomorrow.

So have you decided what your major
is going to be yet or...

Well, I have till the end
of the year to declare

but I was thinking creative writing.

Mmm-hmm.

Unless you think I should
major in something else.

No, no. No, I think it's a great idea.

No, I, um,

I just didn't wanna assume
that that was what you wanted to do.

Good.

Because writing is really
the only thing that interests me.

- Mmm-hmm.
-lt's all I care about, really.

If I wake up that day and I'm writing,
then I'm in a good mood. I'm happy.

I know what you mean.

- It's better than anything.
- Yeah.

It's better than sex.

- Well...
- Well, I...

- Maybe not that.
- Maybe not that, yeah, but...

No, no. I don't want
external speakers,

I just need to make sure it has
the new Intel Core i5

and i7 processors.

- Absolutely.
- Okay.

And I don't want
an in-store service plan

because it never breaks
before that expires anyway.

Your daughter's very charming.

- That was easy.
- Yeah.

Everything should be that easy.

Thank you.

It's just one writer
helping another writer.

Thanks.

- What... No.
- No. Sorry, go ahead.

No, you go ahead. Choose.

- Yeah? Okay.
- Yeah.

- All rig hty.
- All rig ht.

Um, you wouldn't be willing,
by any chance,

to help me carry this stuff
up to my room, would you?

Or help set it up?

I understand
if you have to get going.

I've taken up enough
of your day already.

Oh, you know, actually,

I don't think I'd be much help
setting up a computer.

My wife had to set mine up.

l'm, like, totally useless.

So...

That's cool. I can probably do it.

- Okay.
- You could just be moral support.

Did you do these drawings?

Um, yeah. Mostly.

- Very good.
- Thanks, I've been doing it forever.

I just kind of pass the time
that way, you know?

Impressive.

-L think we got it.
- Oh.

Putting together my last computer
was like total hell.

You must be my good luck charm.

Well, I'm glad to hear it.

Hey, let me print out
the new pages for you.

Son of a bitch.

Shit. Shit.

The paper's jammed.

Yeah, no shit.

Sorry. I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry. It's just...

You know, I just really wanted
to give you these pages

-before you went and...
- Don't worry about it.

You know what? Just email them to me
because I really should go.

No, I think it'll restart.
Sometimes it happens, it jams.

Let me just try this one
other thing, okay?

Shit! Shit!

- Okay, all right.
- No, it's...

Relax, relax, it's okay. It's not...

-lt's just...
-lt's okay. It's okay.

Hey, it's all right.

Don't...

- Ow!
- Oh, my God.

- What was that?
- I don't know.

I just heard that through my skull.

Sorry, I think I broke a tooth.

- Are you okay?
- I don't know. Yeah.

I think I lost a filling
or something.

That's not all you lost.

Yes, I'm sorry.

Don't worry about it.

Hey, let's try this again.

- Okay, well, I'm not so sure...
- No, no.

- What?
- No, not that.

I was going to say
my pages, you know.

Oh, okay.

Um...

Hey, we never locked your door.

I locked it when we came in.

- Oh.
- Oh, I think we got it.

Um...

Do you have a...

Yeah, there's a garbage there.

Yeah.

Okay.

Bingo.

- We've shook it loose.
- All right.

We did some kind of voodoo.

Yeah.

I'm very sorry about...

Here.

Oh.

The new chapter.

Ah, fantastic. Okay, I'll read it
as soon as I can.

Great.

Look, we shouldn't really
tell anybody about this.

Right? I mean, it would cause
a terrible scandal and...

Right, like I'm going to tell anyone.

Like I want us to get us both
kicked out of Euston.

- Don't worry. This didn't happen.
- All right.

- Okay.
- At least not yet.

Okay, all right.

Okay.

All right.

Um, okay.

Okay, um...

- Claris. Hi.
- Hi, Professor Swenson.

- How are you?
- Good, how are you?

Good, good, good.

- I'll see you in class.
- Yeah.

- See you there.
- All right. Okay.

Oh, goodie. You're home.

I can't decide, what would you like?

Uh, I don't know. That's a tough one.

Maybe roll back the clock,
how about that?

Oh!

For dinner, silly?

Uh, how about some oatmeal?

I broke that tooth today.

- Oh, no!
- Yeah.

How did you do that?

On an olive.

An olive? At Euston Commons?

- That sounds exotic.
- No, I...

I had this craving so I went over
to the Minit Mart quickly

and I, um, I bought a whole jar

and I ate practically
the whole thing.

You know how you take...
When you put the pits

in the side of your mouth,
and then I, which I do,

and then I bit on it and...

Stupid.

Maybe you're pregnant.

What? What?

Weird food cravings.

For a second, you looked scared
you might actually be pregnant.

No, it's not funny.
I really, um...

When you're 20-something,
you think everything is replaceable,

but when you're 49 you know it isn't.

- Aw. I'm sorry.
-lt's okay.

You should've come to the clinic.
We could've fixed you up.

Does it hurt?

Only when I do this.

- Ow.
- Don't do that.

Stupid.

I'm gonna make you
some very soft, very delicious

scrambled eggs with cheese.

Oh, good. Okay.

Ooh. OW.

- That did not hurt.
- No, no. Not really.

Don't you want something else, or...

No. I don't mind.

He pressed
until the egg cracked,

its slimy yoke slipping over
our intertwined fingers.

My fingers slid against his fingers
until our hands were joined

and I no longer knew
which fingers were whose.

He took my hand,
still slippery from the egg,

and wrapped it around his penis.

His spit tasted like
an old person's food.

Liver and onions, fried fish.

His stomach pillowed into me.

Maybe he knew what I was thinking,

because he got rougher as he pushed
himself hard inside me.

I began to cry because it hurt,

but at the same time,
I felt happy that he wanted me,

that I alone had the power
to make a grown man risk everything

to do what we were doing

in the warm light of the shed,

with the trays of eggs
humming around us.

I know dudes who'd do that, okay?

I'm just not convinced
this dude would do that.

It doesn't matter whether or not
someone would do something like that,

what matters is whether Meg's
made us believe

that the guy in her story did it.

- So...
- Hey, Meg.

The guy in your story,
what does he do for a living?

I don't know.
I mean, wait, he's a contractor.

Is that in the story?

It was, and then I took it out.

It's not in the story,
because the guy's not in the story.

We don't believe it
for a fucking second.

We don't believe one thing he says
or anything that he does.

Certainly not that he takes the cat
up to the roof to kill it.

A guy like that is more likely
to be nice to the cat

than he is to the woman.

It's like you didn't even
investigate it.

You were too busy thinking up
some vicious thing

for this asshole to do
than actually write a story.

Well,

it appears that Angela did not care
for Meg's writing this week.

I'm sorry, uh, but I think it's unfair

that Angela gets
to shoot her mouth off

about everybody else's stuff
and we never talk about her work.

She should have to play
by the same rules we do.

However, I did make it clear
at the beginning of the course

-that no one is obligated...
- Fine.

Whatever. I'll bring my stuff
into class. I'm not scared.

I just don't see the point.

But if it'll make you happy,
I'll do it next week.

Okay. Great. Thank you, Angela,
for volunteering.

And for extricating us
from this little snafu.

Mmm-hmm.

"Snafu." Beautiful.

It's one of my favorites.

All right, there we are.
So we'll see you next week.

Angela, would you stay
so that we could just talk

about what you would indeed
like to read next week?

I'm sorry for going off like that.

One minute I'm minding my business

and the next
I'm ripping Meg's heart out.

Yeah, no, it's okay.
I mean, you were right.

It's just the mood I'm in.

L was pissed before I came in here.

Why is that?

Because you didn't call.

About the pages.

Yeah, no. I know. I'm sorry,
I didn't get the chance...

lt's just that those were really
extreme scenes, you know.

And I needed to know what
you thought, it was driving me crazy.

And here I am defending male behavior
against Meg's bullshit

but here you are exhibiting
the worst type of male behavior

and honestly, I'd rather you throw
my cat off the roof and kill it

than have you read these
really tough and hard-to-write pages

and not even call.

I'm sorry.

It was thoughtless.

AD0l0gy accepted.

Good.

So, then next week I think
you should just...

Let's just start
with the first chapter.

All right?

Um, yeah. Sure.

You know, I don't know
if I'll get much out of it.

No offense, but...

You know, I just really need
to get my stuff out in the world

to someone that...
Someone that doesn't know me

and they can tell me if I suck
or if I should keep going

or if I should just burn it all

and rip it up and never write again.

I don't think that
you would have to do that.

Was that Blue Angel?
Did you watch Blue Angel?

- Yeah.
- I don't think I've ever seen it.

Marlene Dietrich's
great though, right?

Pretty boring, actually,
it was hard to get through.

But I've got to return it
or else I might as well buy it.

- Okay.
- Hey, uh...

What if the next time you talked
to your editor in New York

you sort of mentioned
my novel to him.

You know?

Have him just read a chapter
or a couple of pages, even.

And then he'll tell you
and you can tell me.

Um...

Let me think about it.

- Thanks. I really appreciate it.
- No problem.

- See you.
- Okay, see you later.

Bye.

So, let's talk about what we liked

before we tear it down, as usual.

I thought some of the egg stuff
was okay.

Oh, come on, Carlos. It was all
so obvious and symbolic.

Thank you, I mean this
egg shit, really? It's cliché.

I didn't believe the voice.

I mean, teenage girls
don't think like that.

There were no
teenage expressions in it,

it was like,
it was totally unrealistic.

And the narrator's so...
I don't know.

I just kept waiting to learn
something about her as a character.

- I feel you.
- Yeah.

Okay, but it is the first part

of a first chapter of a novel.

A novel's got to have
something to keep you reading.

We're not staying with this story
about some chick hatching eggs

and having fantasies
about her teacher.

Yeah. This is, like, the worst thing
we've read in class all year.

You know, sometimes...

Sometimes, there comes along

something that is new
and fresh and original,

it's unlike anything
that's ever been written before.

I'm not saying what Angela
has written is Ulysses,

but what I am saying is what
she has written is very original.

And the rest of you need to see that.

Because if there's one thing

that I want you
to take away from this class,

it's the ability, it's the generosity

to see the real deal.

And that's the real deal.

It should be painfully
obvious to all of you

that what Angela has written
is more sophisticated,

more profound,

more nuanced and more compelling

than anything any one of you
has written for this entire semester.

And I'm shocked
that you don't see it.

Hello, hi. It's Ted Swenson
calling for Len Currie.

- One minute, Mr. Swenson.
- Mmm-hmm.

Ted. Finally. How are you, man?

- Hey, how are you?
- Jesus, you're hard to get a hold of.

- You coming to New York?
- Yes.

In fact, that's why I'm calling,

I wanna talk to you
about a couple of things.

Uh, maybe the week after next?

The week of Thanksgiving?

Uh, no. Actually, I meant...

That Friday is perfect.

It's actually the only slot I've got
free on my schedule for the next year.

Not really, but just about.

And by lunchtime,
I'll be climbing the walls to get away

from the wife and kids.

Don't tell anyone I said that.

Norma's.

Twenty-second and Park Avenue South.

See you at 1:00. Can't wait
to finally read what you've got.

Hello?

Oh, my God, Ted! She's here!

Hello?

Oh!

I did not expect you so early.

Oh, I thought
you'd hit all that traffic.

- It wasn't too bad, actually.
- Oh!

- Good.
- Smells good, Mom.

- Hey, how are you?
- Hi.

She's back and badder than ever.

You look great. You look great.

Thanks, Dad. You need
to say it a third time.

Okay. All right.

I'm taking this course
on the abnormal personality.

It's for my psych major.

- That sounds interesting.
- Mmm-hmm.

Yeah, a lot of these studies say

that first-degree relatives
of affected individuals

have a higher risk of developing
symptoms themselves.

Makes me think about Grandpa.

It makes perfect sense.

This is absolutely delicious, honey.

Although a child of a bipolar
has less than a 15% chance

of developing it himself.

Well, there you go,
15 percent. Spared.

Unless there are other members
of the family

who suffer from some kind of
mood disorder too.

I remember your mother
was depressed a lot, as well.

Honey, would it be all right
if we didn't talk about

my inherited mental illness

during Thanksgiving dinner?

It's pretty fascinating, though.

Bipolar is rampant.

My father wasn't bipolar.

He was angry
about the state of our country.

I just think his underlying
emotional state

must have had a big effect on you

and I'm surprised you never went
into therapy.

Why? I'm a writer. To me, it's all
grist for the emotional mill.

Why shrink it away?

He set himself on fire.

Yes, I know that. I know.

But I don't think political outrage
is inherited,

so, I wouldn't worry.

Okay.

Let's change the subject.

How's your book coming?

So how's the novel coming?

Well, it's coming, you know,
it's coming. It's...

It's slow.

It's coming slowly, but actually
I didn't want to talk to you

about my novel.

I wanted to talk to you about

a novel that one
of my students is writing.

- God help us.
- No, no, no.

Len, listen,

it's about a high school girl
who has an affair with her teacher.

Here, let me...
I want to give it to you.

You're fucking her!

What? No, I'm not!

- But you want to.
- No, I don't wanna...

It's not about sex, it's about that
this kid is really, really talented.

I believe you, I really...
I'm sure she's very good.

But I don't have time
to look at some chick novel

about a girl with the hots
for her high school teacher.

Why don't you just look
at the first few pages?

- Ted?
- First few pages.

- Ted?
- First few pages.

Ted.

Do yourself a favor.

Take the manuscript back.

Tell her you'll show it to me
if she lets you fuck her.

Now what about your book?

Let's get serious here.
I've had a thought.

Have you ever considered a memoir?

- Len“.
- You don't need me to tell you

that what's selling these clays
has the juicy gleam,

the bloody smell of truth.

Yes, I know.

How many people
you think read a novel?

-L...
- About 5,000.

Out of the 5,000 people
that read your novel,

2,000 of them are dead

and the other three,
they've forgotten.

Better to be a hot new memoirist
than a mid-list, middle-aged novelist.

I'm not doing this as your publisher.

I'm doing this as your friend.

Well, I appreciate that.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Now, look,
I don't know you that well,

but the best thing,
the really good thing

would be if there were something

that had been going on since
your father's death,

some ongoing problem.

A problem? Like what? What are you...

Drinking, drugs, spousal abuse.

Oh!

Sex addiction.

Compulsively fucking your students.
That would be great.

Len.

Something that's directly traceable
to your dysfunctional childhood.

And something that you've, you know,
"recovered from," of course.

Yeah, Well...

I'll think about it.

What are you doing
sitting in the dark?

I don't know. Just thinking.

Everything okay?

Is Ruby all right?
ls she pissed that I went?

No. No, not at all.
I told you she's fine.

What did Len have to say?

Oh, well, you know, his kid's got ADD

and they're medicating him
into a stupor, and, you know.

I mean about the chapters
that you gave him.

Oh, yeah. Yeah. No, he's, um...

You know, he's excited.

But it's probably gonna
take him a little while

to read it, he said, so...

Okay. Everyone would love
to see you finish Eggs.

Mmm-hmm.

Oh, by the way,
one of your students called.

She sounded upset.

- Did she leave her name?
- No.

She said she wanted
to talk about her novel.

She thought it was your cell.

Her novel?

Oh, great.

Her novel.

She's back in New Jersey,
she left her number.

She said to call her any time.

Unbelievable,
these students, you know,

you say, "Don't call me unless
it's a life-threatening emergency."

And, of course, everything to them
is a life-threatening emergency.

You know, you're at
their beck and call. It's just...

I'm sure it's nothing
that can't wait until Monday.

Okay. I'm going UP-

All right,
I'll see you up in a minute.

Morning.

Happy Thanksgiving.

I hate it when
you look at me like that.

Like what?

Like dinner.

I'm sorry. I didn't think
I was looking at you like dinner.

I don't usually think about dinner
until I've had lunch.

So I'm guessing it didn't go
very well,

otherwise you would've called.

No, I, uh, I talked to him about it
and he said...

You know, he's a very busy man.
He said he'll read it.

Of course, he could be so busy
that he just pretends to read it

and then sends it back, but...

Unfortunately, we have
no control over that.

So when can I call him?

You're welcome.

How was your Thanksgiving?

Grisly. So when I call
and see if he's read it?

I don't think he would like that.

Um, that might make him
want to not read it.

You didn't give it to him, did you?

Okay, look,

I didn't leave it with Len.

It's not that I didn't try. I did.

It's just that he's not reading
any new novels now.

And you shouldn't take it personally,
it's not...

You know, it's not like he read it
and he didn't like it.

It's just, that's all...

I mean, come on.

You're young, you haven't even
finished the novel yet.

You and I both know
that this is all bullshit.

None of it matters.

"When am I going to be published?
My reputation. My fame."

It's bullshit.

The only thing
that matters is the work.

That's all.

- The work.
- Fuck you.

No. Fuck you.

I went out of my fucking way for you,

I went down to Manhattan
to see my editor

so he could take me out to lunch,
so he could treat me like shit.

So he could tell me that I had to
write a memoir about my early years,

everything that I covered
already in Phoenix Time,

but now I'm supposed to write it
in a different way

and it's supposed to be
the actual truth.

Fuck me? Fuck you.

What did you tell him?

I told him no.
I'm a novelist, plain and simple.

I still have some standards.

It's easy for you to have standards,

with your nice fat teaching job
and your tenure forever and ever.

You'll always have time to write,
even if you don't.

Whereas if I end up
working at a drugstore,

which, with my parent's connections
is a best-case scenario,

I'll never have the time

while you sit here
making your little moral distinctions

about not selling out
your fabulous talent.

I can't believe you let this happen.

I can't believe
you didn't fight harder for me!

Angela, what...

The only reason why I let you fuck me
was so you could get my novel

to someone who could
actually do something.

I did not think
that that's what that was about.

I did not think this was
about you letting me fuck you.

I thought that was something
that we both wanted.

Well, now you know.

Hello?

Professor Swenson? It's Hillary
from Dr. Bentham's office.

Yes?

Dr. Bentham would like to see you
as soon as you arrive this morning,

if possible.

Um, yeah. I should be there
in about 10-15 minutes.

Will it take long? Because I have
office hours this morning.

I'll tell him you'll be here shortly.
Thank you so much.

Okay.

Ted.

- Hi.
- Please, sit.

Thank you for coming in
on such short notice.

Oh, yeah, well, office hours
this early aren't very popular so...

Ted, maybe we could dispense
with the small talk

if that's all right,
and get directly to the point.

So I'm guessing
it didn't go very well,

otherwise you would have called.

No, I, uh, I talked to him
about it and he said...

You know, he's a very busy man.

He said he'll read it.

Of course, he could be so busy
that he just pretends to read it

and then sends it back, but...

Unfortunately, we have
no control over that.

I can't believe
you let this happen.

I can't believe
you didn't fight harder for me.

Angela, what...

The only reason
why I let you fuck me

was so you could get my novel
to someone

who could actually do something.

I did not think
this was about

you letting me fuck you.

I thought that was something
that we both wanted.

Francis, look,

I did not make
this girl sleep with me

in exchange for
pimping out her novel.

Ted, maybe it's premature

to warn you that everything you say
can be used against you, but...

Are you arresting me?
ls that what's happening?

Are you reading me my Miranda rights?
Are the cops here?

Of course not.

But the evidence against you,

it does look pretty damning.

Meaning what?

The student is charging you
with sexual harassment.

Ugh.

She's threatening to sue the school.

And given what
she's presented us with,

I really think you might consider,

for everybody's sake,

resigning.

I wouldn't ask you to do it
just for the college, old chap.

I'd say go ahead and fight
if that's what you want.

But you do have a family to consider,
and a professional reputation.

And my so-called options?

Well, I suppose we'd have to form
a committee to look into this.

Gather testimony.

Hold a hearing, if necessary.
And I assume it would be.

It's all spelled out in the faculty
handbook under sexual harassment.

This is not sexual harassment.

Actually, Ted, this sounds like

the textbook case
of sexual harassment.

Yeah, but that's not what it is.

Incidentally, Miss Argo
has asked me to ask you

to not to contact her
until after this matter is settled.

So what do you say, Ted?

Want to go out to dinner?

Are we celebrating something?

A day without disaster.

Oh, well, that's worth celebrating.

Emilio's?

You might want to wait for a month
without disasters for that.

Well, there won't be
any of those anytime soon,

so let's go tonight.

- All right.
- All right.

- Let me just go take a shower.
- Okay.

Ted. What are you...

In my dread and confusion,

I reverted to the conventional wisdom
that if you're going to deliver

shattering information to a loved one,

it's best to do it in a crowded place

that will pre-empt tears,
recriminations,

murder attempts, and so forth.

I guess I should have known
that at 7:00 on a weekday night,

the place would be empty.

I'll have the venison.

- And I'll have the salmon.
- Oh.

Uh, even though
it's probably exhausted

after swimming all the way
to Vermont.

We made it through Thanksgiving.

- Not too bad.
- Not too bad.

- Not too bad.
- I barely remember it.

What do you think? You think
she'll come home for Christmas?

- Yeah, I hope so. Yeah.
- Oh.

I'm so glad we're in this together.

Me, too.

So if l...

-lf I tell you something...
- Mmm-hmm.

Will you promise not to be
mad at me, no matter what?

I recognize a lose-lose deal
when I hear one.

No, I mean it.

Have you been sleeping
with a student?

Oh, my God. I was kidding.

I didn't really...
I didn't sleep with her.

My tooth broke.

Oh, okay, so you were going to sleep
with her except your tooth broke?

Well, something like that.
Not really...

- I mean...
- What did she do?

Punch you in the face?

No.

Was she the one who called when
you were supposedly in New York?

Um, I think so.

And do you think
that's who you went to see

when you told us you were going
to see your editor?

No, I...

- Look at me, God damn it!
- Okay. All right.

What are you looking at them for?

Look, no, I was in New York.
I saw Len.

I wouldn't lie
about something like that.

I'm very superstitious, you know that.

- What if the plane went down...
- Too bad it didn't.

Is she pretty?

No. No. Not really. No.

Then what? Youth? Great body? What?

No, no. None of that.
Nothing, it's just...

She can write, you know...

She can write?

This is about writing?

And it never once crossed your mind

that your wanting
to sleep with this kid

might have clouded
your literary judgment?

It's just that this novel
that she's writing, it's just...

It's stupid, I know it's stupid.

It's just that,
that's what attracted me.

- Oh. Oh, I get it.
- Okay...

So you didn't fuck a student?
You fucked a book.

You're like some groupie,
like one of those chicks

who used to come up to you
after one of your readings

because they thought
you were some famous writer.

You know what?
You're worse than a groupie.

You're like a vampire,
sucking this kid's blood.

Okay.

A guy whose own daughter
barely talks to him

because he forgot she existed,

he was so self-involved, so in love
with your own little problems

that the only way
that she can get your attention

is to start dating a guy
whose reputation is so bad

even you will have heard of it,

even with your head
so far up your ass.

Okay, that's... Sherrie...

All those pathetic little crushes
you used to get on students,

always simpering about how
Little Miss Such-and-Such

is really very talented.

And always asking me if anyone would
still think you were attractive.

I should have known better.

Serves me right for thinking
that we were different.

We weren't like everybody else,
we weren't the cliché.

The aging, insecure writer
and his pathetic, supportive wife.

- Okay.
- God, what could possibly

be more cliché
than thinking you're not one?

Whatever the fuck you are
looking for, it is not out there.

It is not in me.

And it's not in the pussy
of one of your students

who just happens to be able to write.

I know that.
Don't you think that I know that?

She's filing a sexual harassment
suit against me.

Good.

I hope they crucify you.

I hope they fucking make you pay.

Ruby. Hi, honey,
I was going to call you.

I think it sucks
what you did to Mom.

You should feel like shit.
That's how you made her feel.

No, I know that. I know.

And I can offer up
no worthy defense, I...

Nice talking to you, too.

I'm sorry, my friend,
but you have left me no choice.

I must request your resignation.

All sold out.

Standing room only, Professor.

I will not go on!

What happened to you? Are you mad?

You've got to go on.

Put on this wig.

Don't get excited, Professor.

Be calm, please.

Ladies and gentlemen, an egg.

We all know why we're here.

To investigate the charges
brought by Miss Angela Argo

against Professor Theodore Swenson.

This committee has already taken
a number of depositions

under advisement.

Do you have any questions, Ted?

Ted?

No. No.

I suppose we should just begin.

Can you tell us in your own words
what happened at Dean Bentham's

on the evening of November 6th?

Well...

Did you ever notice anything unusual
in Professor Swenson's behavior

toward Miss Argo?

Well...

Did he do anything in class
that led you to suspect

that he was involved
inappropriately with Miss Argo?

Did you ever see him with Miss Argo
in a venue that surprised you?

- Well...
- Thank you for coming in.

We appreciate your honesty.

Thank you for your courage,
Miss Williams.

The committee appreciates your help.

Could you tell us the reason
for Ms. Argo's visits

to the health clinic?

This one time she came in,
Sherrie Swenson and I were on duty,

and she said that she had been
having suicidal thoughts.

She was worried that she'd never meet
a man she could love.

How did you respond?

She wanted to know
how we met our husbands.

So we told her,
and it seemed to give her comfort.

Well, thank you so much for coming.

Okay, Angela,
do you feel ready?

Let us start by saying

that everybody understands
how difficult it has been

for you to do this.

How brave you are
for helping to make sure

that this kind of thing is stopped.

I want to start by asking,
when did you first realize

that Professor Swenson
was interested in something

beyond the ordinary
student-teacher relationship?

Well, I caught him
looking at me in class a lot.

And then I found out
he checked out my book of poems

from the library.

And, um,

I figured something was going on.

How did that make you feel?

It creeped me out. Big time.

And how did things
between you progress?

I guess it was when I told him
that my computer crashed,

and he offered to take me down
to Burlington to the computer store.

Objection, Your Honors.
I did not offer. She asked.

Ted, you'll get your chance.

And this isn't a court of law.

Addressing us as "Your Honors"
isn't necessary.

All right. Okay.

Then what happened?

Nothing, at first.

He seemed really nervous, like he was
scared someone would see us.

And then?

When we were on our way back,

he started talking about
his editor in New York

and asked if I would like the guy
to look at my novel.

And then that's when
he put his hand on mine

and moved it to my leg...

Oh, my God, that is bullshit, Angela!

This is complete and total bullshit!

- Ted.
-lt's bullshit.

- You'll get your say.
-lt's bullshit!

- Please.
- Excuse the interruption.

Please continue.

Anyway, when we got back to the dorm,

he offered to help me carry
the computer up to my room.

And you told him yes?

I was just feeling totally passive,

like I was totally out of control
of everything.

And what happened next, Angela?

I know this is hard for you,

but we do have to know.

Well...

Then we sort of had sex.

Or we began to,
and then his tooth cracked.

And?

That ended it.

How did you feel?

Relieved.

I shouldn't have done it,

but I guess what he was offering
in exchange was too tempting.

Did he keep up
his end of the bargain?

He lied.

He said his editor wasn't interested

and didn't want to take a look
at my book.

Go ahead, honey.

Tell them.

Tell them the good news.

Good news? Please.

About a week ago, I got a call
from a guy named Len Currie,

Professor Swenson's editor.

He said he found my manuscript
on the chair where they had had lunch

and he picked it up and read it
on his way home in a cab

and that he...

He's offered me a contract
to publish it.

That is wonderful!

- Am I done?
- Yes, of course, thank you.

And congratulations on your...
On your book.

Thanks, I guess.

Now, I have to finish it.

Ted,

I imagine there are now some things
that you would want to say?

First of all, I'd like
to say that I'm sorry.

Sorrier than you can
even ever imagine.

I'm sorry that...

I ruined my marriage,

sorry that I ruined my career,

I'm sorry that I sacrificed
my extraordinary wife

for an adolescent idea of romance.

Sorry that I can't seem
to write a novel

that's nearly as good as my first.

Sorry that my daughter
won't speak to me.

Sorry that my father
set himself on fire.

And I'm sorry that I've spent
the better part of a decade,

which I will never get back,

among all of you.

I admit that my behavior towards
Angela was inappropriate

and unprofessional.

I regret it, and I regret it so much.

But I do not agree with the way
it's been presented here today.

The truth has been twisted.

What happened
between Angela and me

was personal,

and it was complicated.

But it was never, ever,
a business transaction.

That's a lie.

That's it.

Excellent. Thank you.

And thank you all.

The committee will be letting
you know its decision within,

let's say, the next two weeks?

In "The Blue Angel,"
Professor Rath, mad with grief,

wanders through the snowy streets,
broken and humiliated,

the cause of his own undoing.

He died in his classroom,
alone, forsaken,

clinging in vain
to a life no longer his.

But I'm not Professor Rath.

Yes, we both destroyed
the lives we had,

were manipulated by forces
unexplored, feelings repressed,

ghosts from our past.

But I destroyed
the lives of others, too,

those I loved the most,
those who trusted me.

And that is something
that I have to live with.

"Why did I let it happen?"
I still ask myself.

Did I set myself on fire to protest
my own complacency?

Was it the only way
I could shake off my inertia

and leap into the unknown?

I don't know.

All I do know
is that I'm writing again.

And for the moment, that is enough.

Excuse me?

How is that?

English SDH