Original subtitles

at a heaping bowl of shit, Hasan!

-You’re a sociopath!

-I hate your job. All of it!

That’s real estate, kitten.

I think I’ve found your mom.

Trying to track her through a couple of towns over the years.

Any word from the adoption people.

-You and Anthony will be the best dads ever.

You haven’t heard from, uh, Susan?

You’ve reached Susan Ireland.

-I’m sorry that I forgot how good you really are.

Morris, it’s time for bed!

-Read to me!

-Oh, it’s late. You have school tomorrow.

-Thirsty.

-Oh...

-Don’t go. Not yet.

-Morris.

-Please, just a little longer.

-There’s nothing to be afraid of.

-Did you check all of the-- -I checked

behind the dresser and in the closet.

-How about under the bed? -Under the bed, too.

Morris,

you’re getting too big for this.

There’s nothing to be afraid of.

Now, go to sleep.

-Open a little?

Morris.

Morrisss!

Morris, I am soooooo hungry!

Eventually you’ll fall asleep. Yes, you’ll fall asleep!

And your little hand will fall out of the bed

just a little, a little,

and that’s when I’m gonna grab it

and then I’m going to eat your fingers like weenies!

-His name is Morris Truby.

His mother just passed so he’s settling the estate.

-What seems to be the problem?

-I’m not sure. Truby doesn’t talk much,

kind of rough around the edges. A little scary.

It’s the house he grew up in, so it’s...

gotta be kind of emotional.

-So we treat it like a Normie?

-Think we do a standard PKT, just in case.

I got Phil doing a quick workup on the history,

but the Trubys are the original owners

so I don’t expect more there.

Still, better safe than sorry

before we start trooping buyers through the place.

-Sounds like you don’t trust Mister Truby.

-He didn’t mention anything specific, but, uh...

I got the feeling he was holding back.

Uh...

A feeling?

-I still get ’em, you know.

-Good to know.

-Hey! Anything new on the Truby place?

-Uh, no.

I mean, yes!

There-there’s stuff on Truby

that’s not much at all, but, um...

this is something else.

-What is it?

Your mom.

I-I-I know there’s a lot of stuff going on right now, but...

I thought that this kind of took precedence.

After all it’s... it’s your mom.

-Okay.

-It’s all here. Her name,

where you can find her.

You know, whenever you’re ready.

-So, what’s new on the adoption front?

Uh...

We wait.

-I worry about Anthony. -How so?

-Well, it’s dangerous to want anything

as much as he wants this baby.

-It’ll all work out.

-So, Truby.

Eleanor Truby bought the house new in the 70s.

She, uh, lived there until she died last year.

-Left it to her only son. -Morris.

-Morris’ history is, uh, a lot more cinematic.

Bunch of misdemeanors as a kid, assault, petty theft.

Joined the Navy,

got a barely honorable discharge.

Graduated to the big leagues as a young man:

extortion, racketeering.

Spent some time in prison for manslaughter,

which is lovely.

Just got out a few months ago and here we are.

-Man did his time.

-Not judging. Just doing what I do.

-They’re here. -Excuse me?

-About a thousand resumes.

You know, the people you want to replace Susan with.

-You know, I wish you wouldn’t put it that way.

She quit, remember?

We can’t make her love us if she doesn’t--

-Okay, Bonnie Raitt. Thank you.

But we care about Susan here and this is just wrong.

-And she quit, Zooey! She chose

not to work here anymore and we have to respect that.

So, the issue is what do we do now?

We have a record number of listings,

thanks in no small part to Susan’s efforts,

and we need help.

-Okay, fine.

I could still help on a limited basis.

-And I’m going to need you to, but you are new

and your heart just isn’t in it.

I need an experienced pro.

I need a rainmaker

and a closer both in the same body.

And it would be nice if they wouldn’t

run screaming into the night at the sight of our...

target demographic.

I think...

I might know somebody.

-Hey!

What’s all this?

-It’s science.

-This is private property.

You need to get your ass outta here.

You’re with Roman?

Okay.

You, uh, find anything interesting?

-Too early to tell.

-Welcome home,

Morris!

-Lomax.

-Roman.

-Haven’t seen you since the Whitby deal.

-Well, I’m sorry about how that turned out.

-Buyer pulled out. Not your fault.

-Only it actually kinda was.

Our firm was controlling Whitby’s second choice,

so I whispered in his ear. He bailed on your property

and then we became his first choice.

-I knew you did that.

-No, you didn’t.

I know when people are lying. I get a...

Kinda itch in my nose. It’s a thing.

-So why’d you quit?

You were their biggest producer.

-They made my nose itch.

A lot.

[quiet footfalls

How did you know where to find me?

-Saw you at the cemetery. I was visiting my father.

-Common ground.

-So, who’s he?

-Tonito, Gabriel R.

-Tonito.

-Yeah, I know. It sounds like a snack.

-What did he do?

-He died.

-Before that.

-Large animal veterinarian.

He was performing a...

rectal exam

on an Arabian stallion when his heart gave out.

He was just, sorta...

just dangling there until the paramedics arrived.

It was very sad.

-So he died as he lived. With his arm up a horse’s--

-Do what you love and you will never work a day in your life.

-So on that subject:

Are you looking to get back into real estate?

Huh!

-Maybe.

I don’t know.

I’m just here helping my folks out.

My dad wants me to take over the family business

but this just... this isn’t my thing.

-So, the reason I’m here...

we may have an opening.

I need talent, experience and an open mind.

-I’m in. -It gets weird sometimes.

The Roman Agency tends to handle a certain--

-Number one, I know what you guys do.

Number two, I currently sew dead people’s lips shut

and scoop out their guts like a Halloween pumpkin,

so whatever kind of "weird" you got is...

a lateral move at best.

-May only be temporary.

-Everything’s temporary.

Just ask Mr. Tonito.

-Susan?

Susan?

Hello?

Yeah. Okay, I guess.

Okay, yeah, I’ll be back in just a minute.

Yeah, I’ll gather the troops.

Okay. Bye.

Damn it.

-Hey.

-Do you know what this is about?

-Zooey says show up, I show up. Anything on Truby?

-The house is rather strange.

There is something there, but it isn’t tripping the MEE.

-Something... friendly? A Swayze?

-Possibly. But have you met Mister Truby?

-Uh, read his rap sheet.

-There is anger rolling off the man.

He just got out of prison.

I could tell from the ink.

-What do you know about prison tattoos?

More than I care to.

Phil, August, this is Lomax.

She’s going to be working with us for a while.

-We’re pretty informal around here.

-What’s your first name? -Clytemnestra.

-Ah! Wife of Agamemnon, twin sister to Helen of Troy.

-My Mom’s Greek and my dad’s just... mean.

-Lomax it is, then. Welcome aboard.

-Lomax worked at Halostone Properties

-for six years. -Halostone? They’re huge.

-She was their number one in sales

and she ate my lunch on a deal

so I’d rather have her with us than against us.

-Hey, Luke. Mister Truby’s here.

-Where you been?

-Around. We’ll talk later.

Delighted to meet you.

I’m Zooey. I run things here.

-Lomax. I sell shit.

-Send him in.

That’s it.

-Okay.

-Lomax...

Mister Truby,

this is, uh, Lomax, one of our top agents.

-She needs to get out of here.

This is between you and me.

-No. We work as a team.

-Then maybe I fire your ass.

-Well, the exit is clearly marked.

-Okay, look, I-I really need your help with this.

-I think you owe Lomax an apology.

-Sorry.

-Good. Now...

why don’t you tell us

what is really going on in your house.

The truth, please.

-It started when I was about seven.

This... voice

started talking to me from under my bed.

You gotta understand, I was a kid.

My mom and I barely got away from my dad alive.

We had to start over.

She worked her ass off to keep us in that house.

We loved that house.

-And yet? -This voice under the bed

it kept saying it was gonna eat my fingers, my-my toes,

my feet...

anything that extended past the mattress.

-And you believed it?

-Were you listening? I was seven!

I made a lot of mistakes. I hurt a lot of people,

including my mom.

It wasn’t my fault.

It was the voice.

That’s why I need you to kill it

before it does the same thing to some other family.

-Kill it?

-That’s...

that’s what you do, right?

-Maybe.

-So, that’s the brand of weird you were talking about?

-The cast changes regularly,

but the story is pretty consistent:

There is something in the house making it hard for us to sell

and we make it... go away.

-You’re serious.

-Well, you can always head back to the relative moral clarity

of the embalming table. There’s still time for that.

Hello, Zooey.

-Hey. Todd from Cold Basin Developments

wants to know when you’re gonna take another run at the squatte

-in Marsden Towers. -Oh, man.

-Might be a good job for the new girl.

Maybe scare her away.

-I don’t scare that easy.

-Ah, uh...

Sorry. You’re breaking up. Can’t hear you.

-I like Zooey.

She lies with style and flair.

-So here’s the deal: Our developer client

is razing an old housing project to turn into a new condo.

Paying the current tenants a ton of money

to get them out -- way over market --

but there is one woman who is not on board.

-There’s always somebody.

-Yep. We have sent over three different reps already.

I’ve even gone myself.

She won’t even answer the door.

-Give me a shot.

-Really?

-Put me in, coach.

So...

to be clear, you’d like us to put out a hit on...

-the boogeyman? -I don’t think I said that.

-A monster under the bed.

-Yeah. So what do we do to make it...

go away?

-Interesting.

I don’t know that we’ve had one of these.

-Well, Truby was genuinely terrified of it.

-Truby is packing.

-Yeah, there is a lot of clutter in that house.

-No, he’s packing.

Carrying a gat, a piece, a roscoe, a gun.

-Sign of the times.

-No, much more.

Truby is out on parole.

If he’s caught with a gun, he goes right back in,

so something must be frightening him terribly.

-So, what, you think he wants to shoot the monster?

-Hm, I doubt that would be effective.

-Well, find us something that will.

-Hm...

-Ms. Amaranth? Hello?

Hello? Ms. Amaranth!

Ms. Amaranth, I’m pretty sure you’re in there.

-Go away.

-Ms, Amaranth, uh, my name is Lomax

and this is my first day on a new job.

My boss sent me over here to talk to you

and if-- if you don’t so much as just open the door,

he’s gonna write me off as an underachiever on day one.

You don’t want me look bad on my first day, do ya?

Hi.

Can I come in?

Thank you.

Huh.

-You’re the first woman they’ve sent.

Mostly they’ve been workmen; hardhats.

Then lawyers...

I think one of them was a real estate guy.

-Ooh. My boss.

-You’re all wasting your time. I’m not leaving.

-Actually, you are ’cause they have a warrant,

which means they could, literally, pull you out of here

kicking and screaming and throw your stuff on the lawn.

Or,

you could leave with dignity

and enough cash to buy yourself some place bigger, nicer.

-And wouldn’t the press make a meal out of a

greedy developer throwing a nice old lady out of her home.

-That’s why their offer is so generous.

But, Ms. Amaranth--

-Elsa.

-Elsa...

There is no way this ends with you staying in this apartment.

How long have you been here, anyway?

-Hm.

Seems like forever.

-It only talks to me when I’m alone.

-And that’s why we’re going to

Cyrano de Bergerac the shit out of it.

-I’ll be listening in the other room.

I can tell you what to say.

-We can’t just incinerate the little turd?

-No. And Morris...

Give me your gun.

Not gonna happen.

-It’s not going to work against him.

We don’t know that.

-Give me the gun.

-Milk and sugar in your tea?

-Uh, no. Straight up is fine.

These vintage photos are amazing.

Who’s this in this really old one?

She looks just like you.

-Yes.

She does, doesn’t she?

-Hello?

So where are you?

Aren’t you gonna scare me?

Threaten to eat my fingers or--

-Morris.

You’re such a scared little rabbit.

-Tell him that you are not afraid.

-Tell him-- -Your friend lies!

He’s a lying liar! You are afraid.

You’ll always be afraid!

-Tell him he’s not real.

-You’re not real.

What if he’s right, Morris?

What if I’m nothing but your trembling,

bed-wetty worry-worries whispering in your ear?

-Tell him again.

-You’re not real!

-What’s worse, Morris? A coward or a fool?

Or a bad son

who couldn’t even protect his mother,

a son so bad his own father ran away?

-I’ve had it. -Morris.

-I’ve had it. I’m done.

-Morris, you need to calm down.

-Nobody talks that shit to me! Nobody.

I am gonna burn that damn house to the ground

and torch that shit along with it!

-Now, Elsa...

put the knife down.

-Oh, I will, dear.

I can’t die.

Nothing can kill me.

Nothing I’ve found, anyway.

-Okay...

-So, you’ve been--

-I’ve been alive for over 500 years.

I’ve lived here for over a 100.

So you--

you see why I don’t want to leave.

Why I can’t.

-When was the last time you were outside?

-I, uh... can scarcely remember.

The war had just ended.

-Which war?

-Oh, pick one.

I remember...

I went outside.

People were celebrating in the streets.

A man grabbed me and kissed me and I was so frightened that...

I went inside and I haven’t been out since.

Oh, there’s always been someone to bring me groceries and...

and books.

And then Amazon and DoorDash and COVID 19 came along

and the world caught up with me.

-Still...

-I just grew so tired of seeing friends...

lovers...

children, everybody I cared about

grow old and die while I just...

stayed the same.

Like a bug caught in amber.

You know, I feel you.

I can understand the downside of living too long.

But I gotta say

there are a lot of people who live too short.

I met some of them on my last job.

-I crave permanence.

This was supposed to be my forever home.

-Let me show you something.

These...

are houses...

you can buy with what the developer

is going to pay you.

Some of them are really nice. Look...

they’ll move your furniture and all your stuff in there

and you can be every bit as comfortable there

as you are here.

Even more so because people like me will stop bugging you.

-Thank you. I-I have a home.

-I’m not giving up.

-It was very nice talking to you.

-Well, it’s not like you have anyone to compare me to.

And just so you know,

present company excluded,

any poor schmuck can die.

But to live, to truly live?

Takes work.

-I didn’t see the shooter.

Uh, the car was a sedan. White, I think.

-You’re pretty quiet, Mister Truby.

-Never saw ’em before.

-You’ve got quite a colorful history.

-See, the important word there is history.

Old news.

-Make sure we have your contact information.

-We’ll be getting in touch. -We gave the officer my card.

Hey, thanks.

You actually saved my life.

Not to mention what would have happened

if that cop found me carrying a gun.

Let me buy you a drink?

-Do you know who took a shot at you?

-I owe them money.

And they’re trying to kill a dead man.

The headaches started when I was in prison.

I thought it was lack of sleep.

The nightmares were coming back hard.

-The voice under the bed.

-Yeah.

Then a few months ago I had an MRI.

They call it a grade 4 glioblastoma.

Brain tumor.

Last dance.

-I’m sorry.

-So, basically,

I made up a checklist of three things I needed to do

while I was vertical and lucid:

Sell my mom’s house;

settle the score with that thing under the bed;

and then I gotta get to Elko, Nevada.

-What’s in Elko, Nevada?

-My daughter.

She’s 19.

I haven’t seen her since I got out.

She never gave up on me.

-Nice.

-Yeah, well,

so far I am zero for three.

I am gonna get rid of that house and that thing

one way or another.

-Morris, the voice,

the monster, what it said about your mom and dad--

-No. It was just trying to piss me off.

-Maybe there’s more to it? -Let it go.

It’s not something I really want to talk about.

-That is what I’m saying!

I know a little about how complicated

the whole parent thing can be -- dads, moms.

You can ignore it.

But it’s always there because it’s a part of you.

It’s where you came from.

And until you confront it,

it’s your unfinished business.

Stick to real estate.

You’re a lousy shrink.

Now, if you’ll excuse me,

I have some boxes to check.

-See, the MEE is flat. It’s not malevolent.

It wants to eat his fingers.

-The MEE does not measure rhetoric;

only intent.

It does not wish him ill.

-I gotta ask:

that prison tattoo thing?

-My big brother.

I idolized him. He was...

smart in all the ways I was not.

-So what happened?

-He was stopped at the wrong intersection

by the wrong police officer with the wrong companion.

-Damn. -It was only two years.

24 months.

But...

he came out of jail

with the hard look of someone I didn’t know.

And lots of ink,

just like Mister Truby.

-I’m sorry.

-He died a quiet death

12 weeks later.

A knife in the guts.

My brilliant brother.

-You know, I am so sorry. I gotta take this.

Phil Orley.

Yeah, Anthony is my husband. Is he okay?

When?

All right, I’m on my way. Where should I--?

Emergency?

-Morning. -Late night?

-Kinda. August in?

-Yeah. Hey, Luke, um...

-I’m worried about Susan. -We talked about this.

-No, no, no, no, no! Listen, listen, listen, okay?

I went by her new place and it is like nobody

even lives there. I mean, the drapes are closed

in the middle of the day and at night it’s--

How often do you drive by?

-I’m just worried.

Okay? I-I call her and her voicemail’s full.

I email and nothing. I-I text, I get nothing.

Or something that I can’t even imagine Susan would say.

-I’ll give her a try.

-Yes! Please. Thank you.

-The voicemail box of Susan Ireland is full.

Goodbye.

You got a sec?

-Yeah.

-I struck out on the squatter.

-I’m not surprised.

-She is determined to stay for...

reasons.

-But you talked to her. She opened up to you.

-Opened up is what she did, yeah.

What happened to your "monster under the bed" guy?

-I’m worried he’s going to do something dumb.

-I... hate you.

I hate what you did to me.

You made me a bully and a criminal.

You made me a monster.

Goddam you!

You’ve made me just like you!

So tonight...

I am going to burn it all down.

I am gonna die.

But first...

you are gonna burn.

-Don’t die.

-What do you- what do you mean?

-Don’t die!

I wasn’t-- I didn’t be to make you afraid!

It was to stop you afraid!

-I don’t believe you.

-But you do! You do believe!

Oh, Morrisss,

I live to make you scared of me so you become tough!

Haaarrrd!

Not scared of nobody ever again!

Not the bad man, not nobodeee!

-The bad man?

-But then you got so mean, Morris.

So mean!

I’m sorry, soooo sorry.

-Why are you still here?

-I only live for scare you, Morris!

But never enough.

You stay hard and mean.

I get tired.

I fail.

So sorry, Morrisss.

-If I stood up to you once, just-just one time,

would my life have been different?

-I’m sorry, Morrisss.

I don’t want you to die.

-Until you confront it,

it’s your unfinished business.

Hm.