Original subtitles

[haunting string music]

♪ ♪

[wind gusting]

♪ ♪

- Seven.

- So beautiful.

- How many times are you gonna say that?

- Well, it just keeps hitting me.

- Yeah? You say it again,

something else is gonna start hitting you.

[laughter] - Eight.

- I think it's a little creepy.

- Okay, well, you know, creepy can be beautiful.

- Spoken like a true writer.

- Nine.

♪ ♪

- What do you keep counting, sweetheart?

♪ ♪

- Roadkill.

- What?

- They're all over the road.

I saw a raccoon and a possum

and one that I think was a cat.

It's weird how it's more sad when a cat gets run over

than a raccoon does.

Ten. [tires screeching]

- Oh, no.

Oh.

[haunting string music]

♪ ♪

- Stay here a second.

- I wanna see. - Uh-uh, honey.

[car door slams]

[suspenseful music]

♪ ♪

Is it dead?

♪ ♪

- Very.

- Well, don't touch it.

You don't want to get Lyme.

[intense music]

♪ ♪

[unsettling string music]

- [sighs]

[seat belt clicks]

[engine turning over]

[dramatic musical sting]

[chilling music]

♪ ♪

[thunder booming]

[tense string music]

♪ ♪

[music intensifies]

♪ ♪

- Okay.

[sighs] Pretty.

- Okay, I'll take it.

- You excited? - Mm-hmm.

- Ah, you must be the Gardeners.

- Hi. - We are, hi.

- Welcome to Provincetown

or P-town, as we call it. - Mm.

- You know, the pilgrims landed here

before they landed in Plymouth.

- Mm. - Huh?

I'm Martha. - Hi.

- I manage the house for the Browns.

Come on in.

- It looks haunted.

[unsettling music]

- Every house in Provincetown is haunted, sweetheart.

It's the ghosts of all the old whalers

drowned at sea.

[laughs spookily]

♪ ♪

- It's so quiet.

- Summer population is 60,000.

This time of year,

it bleeds down to a little less than three.

I actually prefer it like this.

I rent my place out a bunch in the summer--

head out to the Berkshires--

especially during Bear Week.

Septic systems in town back up a lot during Bear Week.

[laughs]

[clears throat]

So you're a screenwriter?

- Yeah. - Anything I would have seen?

- Um, I've written on a few TV shows.

- Uh-huh? - Uh,

network procedurals, mostly. - Ah.

- He's, uh,

writing a pilot while we're out here, though.

- Oh, I hope you're not planning on, uh,

changing too much about the place.

- Browns gave me free rein

to change whatever I want, so...

- Well-- - Well, within the budget.

- Right. It's her first big job.

- Yeah, it's sort of a-- a second career for me.

I was a schoolteacher for a long time, but...

The Browns, they saw my Instagram account...

- It's very good. - And offered us

three months free at the house in exchange for redecorating.

[door slams] - Aha!

A little fiddle player.

We got a nice little orchestra at the middle school.

- She's homeschooled.

- Well, all you really need to know...

- Mm-hmm. - Is to keep

a lot of booze stocked.

- [laughs] Okay.

- Uh, make sure the windows are closed up tight...

[knocks on glass] In case a nor'easter rolls in.

Uh, don't go swimming near the seals.

Not that you would-- the water's near freezing.

Oh, and don't try and imitate a Boston accent.

Huh? - [chuckles]

- [laughs] - All right.

- Thank you, Martha. - Thank you.

- Thank you.

- Enjoy.

- Bye-bye. - Bye.

[door bangs shut] - I'm gonna go find my room.

- [laughs]

- Are they all gonna be

so weird?

- Oh, God, I hope so. - No.

- I need all the inspiration I can get.

I think I'll unload later

and I'll go hit the market for supplies right now.

- Mm, you mean the "mahket."

- Right, the "mahket." - It's the "mahket."

- Shh, she's listening.

- [giggles]

- Can't believe we're doing this.

I never thought I'd get you out of the city.

- I know.

I'm really proud of us.

This is the perfect place for you

to work without distraction

and for me to get some real experience.

I think it's gonna be fun.

- Me too.

- Like a babymoon.

- Mm. [chuckles] Okay.

- Bye.

♪ ♪

[sighs]

♪ ♪

[foreboding music]

♪ ♪

[light music playing over speakers]

♪ ♪

[dramatic musical sting]

- Get the fuck out of here, fucker!

Out of this town!

They're gonna munch on your balls!

- All right, Karen.

That's enough crazy for one day.

Go outside and scream at a tree or the bay or something.

- [gasps, coughs]

- Jesus, Karen! Get out, okay?

You're not allowed to die in here.

- Go fuck yourself, motherfucker.

Get out of this town!

Get out!

[whispering] Tell him, Mikey.

- [sighs]

We call her Tuberculosis Karen.

- [chuckles]

- I don't think she actually has TB,

just smokes, uh, three packs a day.

She's a nutter, but she's harmless.

- Well, I'm from New York City.

It takes a lot nuttier than that to faze me.

- I'm Mikey.

This is my place. - Hi.

Harry Gardener.

- I know.

Mr. Hollywood.

[tense tone]

My sister is the Browns' house manager.

- Oh. - Just let me know

if you need me to order you anything special,

uh, organic, uh, fruit or kale

or, uh, oat milk.

♪ ♪

[music intensifies]

[metronome ticking]

- [clears throat]

[dramatic violin music playing]

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

[music quickens]

♪ ♪

[sighs]

♪ ♪

[eerie whooshing]

♪ ♪

[sighs]

♪ ♪

[metronome ticking]

♪ ♪

[sighs]

♪ ♪

[fox yelps]

- Alma!

Honey,

you know I love your playing.

But can you help me out here?

I-I-I only have three months to finish this project.

- I thought music was supposed to help open the creative mind.

- I'm sure you're right about that.

But see, the thing is,

when you play,

all I can think about is how much I love you

and how proud I am of you.

And it demotivates me from working,

because what more do I have to prove

when I have you as my daughter?

- And it's super annoying.

- That too.

- I need to be better.

I need to be perfect.

I want to play first chair in the New York Philharmonic

by the time I'm 18.

- Oof, 18.

[inhales sharply] Ticktock, baby.

Ticktock, ticktock,

ticktock.

- I thought everyone loved the script.

Why would they buy it

if you had to do so much to fix it?

- [laughs] - All right, Almandine.

Let's go out and explore

and let Daddy get some writing done.

Come on, baby.

- Thank you.

[sparse piano music]

[door clicks open and shut]

- We need to get Daddy noise-canceling headphones.

- [laughs]

That's a good idea.

[dissonant string music]

♪ ♪

- I wonder if the pilgrims are buried here.

I wonder what killed them.

Maybe something cool and ancient

like dysentery or plague.

- Or deer ticks.

There's Lyme disease all over this area.

Your friend Rashida's mom,

she spends the summer in the Hamptons.

She got it.

Now she can barely make it to noon

before collapsing in exhaustion.

If you just...[sighs]

Keep covered up, you should be okay.

- Do you like it here?

- It's very beautiful.

You know me. I love the energy of the city,

where there's always something

surprising you around every corner,

whether it's a crazy man...

[dramatic musical sting] Yelling about God,

a drum circle,

or an old friend,

a neat window display.

[ominous music]

It's good to get a break,

even from things you love.

[twig snaps]

[bones crack]

Come on.

♪ ♪

Come on.

Come on. Come on.

♪ ♪

[screams]

Harry!

Harry! Harry!

♪ ♪

Harry!

- What's happening? - A man,

he's chasing us! He's chasing us!

- What's happening? - [breathing heavily]

[bang on door] See?

[frantic music]

[bang on window] - Fuck.

- The sunroom, the sunroom, the sunroom!

Harry, the door!

♪ ♪

- [hisses]

♪ ♪

- [breathing heavily]

- 85% of the crime on the Cape

is opioid-related.

Not much to do out here in the winter

but complain and get high.

Most of it's harmless.

Break-ins, shoplifting.

Heard they had a drive-by stabbing on a bike

a couple of summers ago,

but that was a real freaky outlier.

- Well, this didn't feel harmless.

He chased me and my daughter

like some kind of wild predator.

- I'm really sorry he scared you.

My guess is, that was all he was trying to do.

- [sighs]

♪ ♪

You know, I have read that Lyme disease

can cause some very strange neurological symptoms.

- I worked Oakland PD for 15 years.

Quit last spring. Took this job.

You know why?

It's boring.

Most of the problem children are day laborers.

And the guys who work the fishing boats

in the summer?

They spend too much of their summer paychecks

and get stuck out here all winter,

get hooked on pills.

They're weird

but usually too stoned to cause any real problems.

I'll send some deputies to sweep the dunes,

push the junkies up cape a little.

- What about the family that was killed

over in Truro last winter?

Five people in their own beds?

I Googled "crime in Cape Cod"

and that was the first thing that came up.

- You didn't Google it before we got here?

- All I heard was how safe it is.

- It is.

Between you and I, we're pretty sure

the father was involved with organized crime

down in Rhode Island.

- So you haven't caught whoever was responsible?

- Ma'am,

I know this was really upsetting.

- Yeah. - But you have my word,

you're safe here.

[low dramatic music]

♪ ♪

- Do you want to go home?

♪ ♪

- No.

No, this is--

it's too big of an opportunity for me.

For both of us.

[sighs]

- Okay.

♪ ♪

[ominous music]

♪ ♪

[tap on window]

[tap on window] - [gasps]

[tap on window]

[tense music]

♪ ♪

[tap on window]

♪ ♪

[music intensifies]

- [hisses] - [screams]

♪ ♪

- What happened?

- She said the guy who chased us was outside.

[music intensifies]

- There's no one there.

- I saw him. There were three of them.

- Sure it wasn't a nightmare, sweetheart?

- I don't think so.

- Okay, sweetheart.

You come sleep with Mommy tonight, okay?

Come on, bring Teddy.

♪ ♪

- Should I call the police chief?

- Because she was so helpful last time?

♪ ♪

[haunting music]

♪ ♪

[breathes heavily]

♪ ♪

[clock ticking]

- In the army, they shoot you

for falling asleep on guard duty.

♪ ♪

- [groans softly]

- You want coffee?

- Oh, yes, please.

And I think I'll go for a run.

♪ ♪

[sighs]

♪ ♪

[seagulls calling]

[boat horn blows]

[waves crashing]

[ominous music]

♪ ♪

[eerie notes]

[retches]

♪ ♪

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God. Jesus.

♪ ♪

[dark tone]

- First dead guy you ever seen?

- Yeah, I guess so.

What could have made those wounds on those men?

- My first guess

is a great white.

- I thought great whites

migrated to warmer waters in the winter.

- Well, I'll know more after the autopsy.

[dark music]

♪ ♪

[somber music]

♪ ♪

- You okay?

- Yeah, hey...

let's go out tonight.

There's only one restaurant open in town,

and I don't know if it's any good, but...

- Doubtful. [laughs]

- I want to just...

celebrate life.

Our life.

- That sounds lovely.

- It's a date.

- Yay. [giggles]

♪ ♪

- Has she babysat before?

Did you call her references?

- Alma, you met her.

She's the nice lady who manages the house.

I don't think she normally moonlights as a babysitter,

but she's-- she's doing us a favor.

Are you worried about being here without us?

- No.

- It's gonna be fine, okay?

We're right down the street.

Literally two minutes away.

Okay?

Why don't you go get the ingredients out

for your mac and cheese?

♪ ♪

- Okay.

♪ ♪

- [retching]

[coughing]

[retches] - Honey.

- Ugh. - You okay?

- [groans]

[sighs]

I threw up. - Mm.

Is it the baby? - Mm-mm.

No, I don't think so.

[sniffles]

It's a little late for morning sickness.

I--

[sighs] It's probably just all the stress.

- Come on. - It's okay.

Heave ho! - Ooh!

[both grunt]

- Okay, light as a feather.

- [chuckles]

- Okay, let's lay you down. Come on.

Come on, come on, come on, come on.

- No, boo. - Mm-hmm.

- I'm afraid so.

- No.

Ooh.

[groans]

I don't want to ruin our night.

[sighs]

You go.

Go.

Have a drink. - No.

- Yes, you need some...

stimulation for your writing.

- I'm not leaving you here.

- We're fine.

I'm fine.

Say, will you--

will you bring me back a--

a steak

or a burger?

I'm craving red meat

all of a sudden.

- What if those weirdos come back?

- Sweetheart,

you'll be gone for an hour.

Go.

- You sure? - Yes.

[laughing] Go.

- Okay, okay, okay, okay.

Okay, I'll be fast.

- Mm.

[tense music]

[lilting piano music playing]

♪ ♪

- Buy me a drink?

- Uh, no, thank you. I'm--

I'm married.

To a--a woman.

- Hmm.

So are all my regulars.

You strike me as a...angry top.

[chuckles wryly]

I'm clean.

But, uh, you do have to glove up

unless you're down for some frottage.

- Frottage?

- It's French for rubbing our dicks together.

- Okay. Excuse me, um,

I have a reservation for two under Gardener.

But my wife isn't feeling well, so it's just gonna be me.

- Or I can join you.

- Beat it, Mickey. - All right.

- Right this way, sir. - Thank you.

- Hey.

Call me.

[music fades] [scattered applause]

["Islands in the Stream" playing]

[light cheers and applause]

♪ ♪

[microphone feedback squeals]

- ♪ Baby, when I met you, there was peace unknown ♪

♪ I set out to get you with a fine-toothed comb ♪

♪ I was soft inside ♪

♪ There was somethin' going on ♪

♪ ♪

both: ♪ You do something to me ♪

♪ That I can't explain ♪

♪ Hold me closer and I feel no pain ♪

♪ Every beat of my heart ♪

♪ We got somethin' going on ♪

♪ ♪

- ♪ Tender love is blind ♪

♪ It requires a dedication ♪

both: ♪ All this love we feel ♪

♪ Needs no conversation ♪

♪ We ride it together ♪

♪ Uh-huh ♪

♪ Makin' love with each other ♪

♪ Uh-huh ♪

♪ Islands in the stream ♪

♪ That is what we are ♪

♪ No one in between ♪

♪ How can we be wrong ♪

♪ Sail away with me ♪

♪ To another world ♪

[tense music]

[cell phone buzzing]

- Hi, honey.

- How you feeling?

- A bit better.

Alma passed out. You having fun?

- Not really without you.

Feels good to get out, though. You were right.

Still want that burger?

- No.

No, I think I'm-- I'm about to pass out too.

- Love you.

♪ ♪

both: ♪ From one lover to another ♪

♪ Uh-huh ♪

[light applause]

- [grunts softly]

[eerie music]

♪ ♪

[music intensifies]

♪ ♪

[bell rings]

[sauntering piano music playing]

♪ ♪

- Sorry, I didn't order that.

- They did.

♪ ♪

- Hi. [chuckles]

I'm Harry Gardener.

Uh, what did I do to deserve this?

- You have that look about you.

- One that says I need a drink?

- One that says you

need a positive review.

- We're fellow travelers.

Warriors of words. Soldiers of syntax.

Pugilists of prose.

- Writers.

- Y-you could tell I was a writer

just by looking at me?

- No, but...

who the hell else moves out here for three months?

- [laughs]

I'm Austin Summers,

better-than-average playwright.

- [laughs] Oh, stop being an asshole

and feigning humility.

You're as modest as Narcissus himself.

Austin has three Tonys and a Peabody.

My name is Sarah Cunningham.

But I write under the pseudonym

Belle Noir.

- No shit. You're Belle Noir?

- Don't tell me you like romance novels.

- Not usually, but your stuff is way better

than the typical dime store crap.

It is deep and moving.

That recent adaptation of, uh,

"My Sister is an Only Child" with Sandra Bullock?

Oh, my God.

That was incredibly heartbreaking.

- Drink with us.

- Oh, no, I--

I don't think I'm worthy.

I'm just a-- I'm a crap screenwriter

with a bunch of studio rewrites

and a bunch of busted pilots.

- [laughs] Bullshit.

You're one of us. Sit.

- All right.

- Listen, I've been coming out here

to write for the winter for a few years now.

Belle's spent, what,

a couple more than that?

This place, it just, uh...

♪ ♪

Inspires us.

- I think you guys would prefer being here in the summer.

- God, no.

With all those tourists and sunshine?

The kind of vitamin D I like doesn't come from the sun.

♪ ♪

I arrive in November

with nothing but a case of good brandy

and some clothes and fur coats.

And by the time May rolls around,

I've got a masterpiece "New York Times" best seller.

- [chuckles]

- And I show up with a stack of porno mags

and a Casio keyboard,

and by the great spring thaw--

boom!

Guaranteed sloppy BJ from "The New York Times."

[snickers]

- I hate to leave.

It's so fun and creative here.

- Don't you just love

an Aperol Spritz in the wintertime?

It's breaking all the rules.

And I'm here for that. - [chuckles]

- Man, I could really use some of the inspiration

you guys seem to have on tap.

I--I, uh...

[soft dramatic music]

I'm having some writer's block,

if I'm being totally honest.

- Well, that won't last long.

Trust me.

♪ ♪

- [coughs]

[coughing]

♪ ♪

- Karen.

- I just want the gristle and fat, bitch!

Scraps you're gonna throw to the maggots anyway.

Do I need to be a maggot to get your leftovers?

- Good Lord.

It's like a modern-day "Les Mis" over there.

- I told you not to come in here anymore, Karen.

- [with English accent] Uh, leave her alone.

The poor woman has consumption, Inspector Javert.

Have pity.

[laughs]

- I told you to get out of this place!

You stay away from those two.

Stay away from all these bloodsucking motherfuckers.

- Out. - I'm warning you!

- Come on. - I'm warning you!

Get off of me. [coughs]

- Mm, how terribly flawed and human.

- Mm.

- If that doesn't inspire the muse to visit you,

I don't know what will.

♪ ♪

[eerie music]

♪ ♪

[kettle whistling]

[heavy bang]

[rattling]

♪ ♪

[rattling continues]

♪ ♪

- [screeches]

- [grunts]

[dramatic music]

[grunting]

♪ ♪

- [growls]

♪ ♪

- [snarling]

♪ ♪

[music intensifies]

♪ ♪

[gasps]

♪ ♪

[ominous music]

♪ ♪

- You want me to stay the night?

It's only 40 bucks extra.

- Bullshit.

You're the one that should pay me.

I've seen that shack you boys live in.

I have heat

and the scent of Rigaud candles.

- Well, then it's $50 for the fuck,

'cause I gotta get going.

- I'll give you $200 for a taste.

- No.

You almost killed me last time.

You took it too far, Belle.

- It's the crystal meth you took.

It--it got me overexcited.

Come on, just-- - No.

- I'll give you $300.

- No.

- I suck you, or you don't get shit!

How's that for a deal?

- Okay.

Just--just do it quick.

[tense music]

[yells]

[gasps]

♪ ♪

[groaning]

[ominous music]

♪ ♪

[foghorn blows]

[cell phone buzzing and ringing]

♪ ♪

[buzzing and ringing continue]

♪ ♪

[breathlessly] I can't.

I can't do it. Please.

Please.

I'm begging.

- You have three hours.

[line clicks]

-[whimpers]

[eerie string music]

♪ ♪

[crying]

[whimpers]

[siren wailing]

[haunting music]

♪ ♪

- I'll need you to come down

to give an official statement tomorrow.

- Do we have to get a lawyer?

- No, the man broke into your house and attacked you.

Massachusetts isn't Texas, but even here,

you're allowed to defend yourself in your home.

No one's gonna miss some tweaker

who was looking to steal a stereo to get high.

- He didn't just want to steal.

He tried to--

- What? He tried to what?

- He tried to bite my throat out.

It felt like that's what he came for.

[static crackling]

[indistinct radio chatter]

- Come by my office anytime after 2:00 tomorrow.

I doubt you'll have any more trouble tonight.

[door clicks shut]

- [breathes heavily]

How's Alma?

She's upstairs.

Told her to stay there no matter what.

She doesn't know what happened.

- Good. Let's keep it that way.

- Thank you. - [sighs]

- For protecting us.

- I'm gonna do more of it tomorrow.

We're leaving.

There are plenty of places

in Maine or Nantucket

or the Hamptons where I can write in peace

and there aren't

lunatic mimes with razor teeth trying to kill us.

[exhales heavily]

What?

- I don't know, you just...

You just forgot that I was supposed to do a job

while we're here too.

- [chuckles]

No, I didn't forget. I--I--

I assumed you wanted to leave.

- I do.

No, I do. We should.

♪ ♪

[ominous music]

♪ ♪

- Come in, you sad, pathetic soul.

♪ ♪

- [shudders] [door thuds closed]

Oh, it's--

it's warm in here.

- Where did you get it?

- Wellfleet.

[soft moan]

- I'm going to hell for this.

- Most people would sell their soul for greatness.

I know I did.

But it takes a pretty miserable piece of human garbage

to sell it just to get up close to greatness.

- I don't do this to be close to you.

- Of course not. That would be too poetic.

[gasps]

You do it for this.

[baby crying] - I do it

because you promised to protect me from the others.

- Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.

Now hand over the bag.

[baby fussing]

[eerie music]

[baby crying]

♪ ♪

Now scram!

[baby crying]

[baby wailing]

♪ ♪

[dark tone]

♪ ♪

[wind whooshing]

- I don't want to go back to New York.

- Honey, it's just till we can find a rental someplace else.

There's lots of places like this.

Look up photos of Nantucket.

It's beautiful.

- I guess this house is haunted now.

[tense music]

♪ ♪

- [sighs]

[cell phone buzzing and ringing]

- Hello? - Harry.

It's Austin Summers.

I, uh--

listen, I want you to come over to my place

right away, would you?

I'm just up Miller Hill.

- Um,

wow, Austin, thank you.

I'd love to, but, um,

now's not a good time.

We're--we're leaving, actually.

- Well, don't do that.

I need to see you.

I have something for you that is gonna cure

your writer's block.

- I'll be right over.

[eerie music]

- ♪ If you're fond of sand dunes

♪ And salty air ♪

♪ Quaint little villages ♪

♪ Here and there ♪

- ♪ You're sure ♪

- ♪ You're sure to fall in love ♪

♪ With old Cape Cod ♪

- ♪ Old Cape Cod ♪

♪ That old Cape Cod ♪

- ♪ If you like the taste ♪

♪ Of lobster stew ♪

♪ Served by a window ♪

♪ With an ocean view ♪

- Sure you don't want one?

- No, thanks.

I don't like to get drunk during the day.

- Well, the key is to be drunk so often,

you can't tell the difference between being drunk and sober.

You're just drunk or...

more drunk.

- I need to drive. We're--we're headed out this afternoon.

- What do you wear when you write?

See, I prefer pajamas.

I bought these at Charvet in Paris.

They cost a fortune.

But I read somewhere that people enjoy things more

if you pay a lot for them, so...[clears throat]

- So that's your secret to curing writer's block?

Expensive pajamas?

- Of course not.

I was just making conversation to put myself at ease.

But if you wanna just stick it in

without taking the time to lube me up,

fine. [chuckles]

That's fine.

[ominous tones]

[whistles]

[tense music]

- What are these?

♪ ♪

- They don't have a name.

Funny how we found a pill to help artists and writers

but none of us have ever given it a name.

- [clears throat] What is it, speed?

Microdose of LSD?

I tried writing on psilocybin once,

but it was all shit.

- I used to be like you.

I thought small. I wrote small.

Little plays about little things

and made little money and attracted little attention.

I had a friend, though.

He writes for television.

You'd know the name.

Disgustingly prolific. Silly rich.

Couldn't write a thank-you note without someone

handing him a trophy of some kind.

[snickers]

And I thought to myself, "How is he doing it?"

And all I knew is that he spent his winters here

and when he returned to the city,

he had a stack of new material as long as my johnson.

He invited me out here one winter,

and when I arrived, he handed me one of those...

♪ Tragic, magic ♪

♪ Little black pills ♪

And within an hour,

I was banging away at the keyboard

like Amadeus at his harpsichord.

- You're fucking with me.

- If I was fucking with you,

I would have told you to take them rectally.

But I'm telling you, those pills are it.

How do you think Belle writes two books a year?

- Who made them? What's in them?

- Who cares? They work.

- What about side effects?

- Lots.

Like, uh, suddenly having

to deal with millions of adoring fans

and finding ways to spend all that new money.

- There's a catch.

There's always a catch.

- ♪ Again I say who cares ♪

♪ You chose this life ♪

You could have been a fucking English teacher

or an adman

or help run your daddy's sporting goods store.

- My father was a lawyer.

- Yes, but you chose to be a writer.

Because you don't really live in this world.

You observe it.

You interpret it. You feed off of it.

And then you sit and you put words together

so that the poor suckers who do live in the world

can see what they look like,

who they are, why they hurt.

And you chose it because you want love

and attention

and barrels of money.

It's fucking insane.

But those are the only things

that can fill that hole

in your soul.

Hole

in your soul.

Hole in your soul.

Hole in your soul!

[soft music]

[whispering] Hole in your soul.

♪ ♪

- I don't like choices you can't come back from.

♪ ♪

- Are you a real writer?

- [scoffs] I like to think so.

- I don't think you are.

'Cause if you were...

[tense music]

You wouldn't care what the price was

for getting uncorked.

You'd rather die

than keep all of those wonderful words

bottled up inside of you.

♪ ♪

Take the pill, Harry.

♪ ♪

Or at least try it.

♪ ♪

Harry.

You won't be sorry!

[snickers]

[eerie tone]

[cell phone buzzing and ringing]

- Hi, Ursula.

- Hey, Harry.

How's P-town? Are you having any "chowdah"

while you're "pahking"? [laughs]

- You know, to be honest, it's been kind of weird here.

We're about to leave, actually.

- Wait, what? Why? Where you gonna go?

- Back to the city till I can

find someplace else for me to go write.

- Okay, uh, Harry?

No fucking way.

You need to stay there

and finish your pilot, like, yesterday.

- I know, I'm just--

I'm really not feeling it yet.

- Okay, Harry, I'm gonna speak straight to you.

Fuck you really hard right up the ass.

Not feeling it?

Rappers are allowed to not feel it.

Uh, girlfriends commenting on clothes

their friends are trying on are allowed to not feel it.

You are a professional writer,

and you feel it when the work bell rings,

every time.

- What's the difference if the pilot's done now

or six months from now?

- Okay, Harry, I'm gonna speak even straighter to you.

Do you understand that the job you used to have

literally does not exist anymore?

I mean, co-EP on some network procedural?

Those shows are dinosaurs.

If you want to continue being a professional writer,

you've gotta create your own thing.

Now. Today.

Look buddy, you know I love you, okay?

But if you screw this up,

it's gonna take you years to recover

if you ever even do.

Goodbye. Go write.

♪ ♪

[cell phone beeps]

♪ ♪

- [grunts]

♪ ♪

[sighs]

[bag rustles]

♪ ♪

[eerie music]

♪ ♪

[music intensifies]

♪ ♪

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