Californication (2007–2014): Season 4, Episode 4 - Monkey Business - full transcript

Previously on Californication...

We could actually use a lead guitarist,
you know, for that Eddie Van Halen shit.

- What do you guys call yourselves?
- Queens Of Dogtown.

You want to know
how many women I've slept with?

No. No, no, no.

I got to get it up to 100.

Triple digits, then I can die happy.

My tits are so sore,
I'm crampy as hell,

and I've been throwing up in my mouth

- all day long.
- Nice. You're probably preggers.

You are quite a slut.



Because I'm a cocky fucking attorney,
and this is a great case for me.

But if you insist on dicking around
and wasting my time,

I'm happy to see you rot in jail.
What the fuck do I care?

Hank Moody, Sasha Bingham.

Sasha. All right,
what is it you do, Sasha?

- She's a fucking movie star, you nudnik.
- How am I supposed to know that?

With Sasha's interest, and with Hank's face
all over the news right now,

we could be at Sundance
this time next year.

Just get me out of it, Charlie.

I can't focus on a stupid
fucking screenplay right now.

I can't do that. Stu's been calling.

Brilliant!

Pure, unadulterated brilliance!

Wow, that must have been one hell
of a dookie. You wash your hands?



The script is good, Hank.
It's really good. Total game-changer.

Don't say that ever again - "game-changer".
I'll kill you.

You totally, totally nailed it.

You took that book, and you...

- You made it your own.
- It is my own, Charlie.

Right. Right.

Your words are downright broner-inducing.

- Yeah, I almost pleasured myself in there.
- Kind of like a solo-blumpkin deal?

Joke all you like,
but my briefs are way crowded right now.

Well, I am just overjoyed that my tales
of melancholy and the infinite sadness

can induce some sort of a reaction
in you like that, old man.

This is gonna be a really good movie, Hank!

I smell...
I smell me an Independent Spirit Award.

You think they might get it
on demand at the state pen?

Cheer up, will you, pal?
This is good for both of us.

You, pumping out the literary greatness.

Me, riding your coattails,
just like old times.

Yes, well, as much as I enjoy
a good old-fashioned ego hummer,

it is time for you to take
your leave, bald sir.

I have much self-pity in which to wallow.

No, no, no. No time to wallow.
We got us a dinner date with Stu and Zig.

Zig? What the fuck is a Zig?

Zig Samitaur, the billionaire.

He's financing the movie, you dumb shit.

Sounds brutal. Count me out.

It is brutal, but essential.
No money, no honey.

Well, no can do, Runks.
I got a date with my dong

and some hotel-room po'nography.

The good stuff too -
penetration and everything.

Your dong's gonna have to wait
till dinner's over.

The money man
wants to meet him some writer.

- He's a big fan, by the way. Big, big fan.
- Oh, shit.

You ever notice when they do the editing
in the hotel-room po'nography,

and they take out all the penetration
and it's just pumping, sweaty man ass,

it looks like just about any Matthew
McConaughey picture ever made?

- Isn't it a little early?
- What? For an itty-bitty glass of vino?

Fuck you, you teetotalling buzzkill.

- All right?
- OK.

Now it's time for bottoms up.
That's right.

Marcy! Oh, God.

- Sorry, Marcy.
- No!

- No, it's OK!
- Marce, I'm sorry.

Thank you so much
for letting them practise here.

It's fine! That's cute.

Girls getting together
to play the rock and roll. I like it.

I like to patronise the arts.

Have you heard anything?
From Charlie?

About the trial? Not really.

I mean, I could ask,

but it would mean having an actual
conversation with Butterbean himself, and...

I don't want him getting the wrong idea.

Why? Are you missing
you some Hankness?

Which one? The one I loved
or the one who fucked Mia?

I don't know. All I know right now
is it all feels a little unreal.

It's kind of like a walking daymare.

- Fancy-ass...
- A daymare?

- Yeah, it's a Hank thing.
- No, I think I know what you mean.

Holy fuck-nuts.

Where did Becca find these miscreants?
The pound?

They look like a pack of feral animals.

Well, let's go to the store
and get them something to gnaw on.

- And leave them here all alone?
- Yeah, they're fine.

They're tough chicks.
No one's gonna mess with them.

I don't give a shit about them.
I'm talking about the house.

I don't want them sacrificing
a freaking goat in here.

So, can we shoot the picture
in 30 days?

- Absolutely.
- Absolutely not.

Maybe.
Let me look at the schedule.

Hank, what do you think?

Hank's not really
a shooting schedule kind of guy.

Silence, agent!

Well, Zig-zag, my work here is done.
I really don't give a fuck.

- And Sasha Bingham will star?
- Yes, she's reading as we speak.

There's no saying no to this draft.
Hank really killed it.

She is really fuckable, isn't she?

Beautiful breasts...

blow-job smile.

Hank, have you made love to her?
You're quite the cocksman, no?

No comment, Ziggy.
A gentleman never tells.

That's true.
He keeps it in his wank bank

until he's ready to pull it out and play
with his little pee-pee.

Of course, I haven't had an erection in the
past decade, but that's another story.

But that doesn't stop me from giving face
rides to my sister-wives, right, ladies?

My God, Zig, you have got
a way with words.

Face rides to your sister-wives.
Respect.

And what about Eddie Nero?

- Have we locked him yet?
- He's circling.

What the fuck does that mean, agent?

It's very hard to nail him down, Zig!
A little slippery!

- We're doing our best!
- Ah, it doesn't matter.

With Sasha Bingham's puddum
and her magnificent boobies,

I can pre-sell the foreign territories

so that we'll be in the black
before we shoot an inch of film.

OK.

To Fucking & Punching: The Movie.

- Here.
- God, I love... that... title!

You and me, Hank...

we know things.

Dark things.

I love your writing.

- His best yet.
- Screenplays bore me to tears.

- Word.
- I like to have things acted out for me.

Let's go to my house and do a reading.
Shall we?

Girls, have them bring
the car around immediately. OK?

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

- Why do you keep saying fuck?
- My boobies are so big and swollen.

They're killing me.

- Right.
- Here, feel.

I'm good. I'm good.

No, seriously.

- Marce, I don't want to feel your tit.
- Grab that tit. Squeeze it! Squeeze it!

- Ow! Yeah. What'd I tell you?
- Well, what have I been telling you?

Oh, no, Marcy, are you crying?

- Why are you crying?
- I don't know!

OK, sudden crying jags, sore boobies...

- And I'm late.
- Bingo.

- Come on, let's get you a pregnancy test.
- And some snacks?

- And some snacks.
- Ow! Jesus, woman!

You're killing my titties. I'm serious!

"Henry, this is Bob's daughter Clea.

- "Do you two know each other?"
- "Well..."

- "No."
- "I do recognise you."

- "No, you don't."
- "Sure I do."

"From your book.
Your picture's on the back.

"What happened to your face?"

"Oh, this? It's nothing.
You should see the other guy."

The other guy!
I love it.

- "Hope she doesn't press charges."
- "He. It was a he."

"Right. Well, I'm off to bed.

"It was really nice to meet you, Henry."

"Hey, she's... nice.

- "How old might she be?"
- "16."

She's 16!

How delightful, Hank!

Very well played, by the way.

So...

erotic.

Good news, everyone.
Not only have I decided to fully finance

this shining example of art-house erotica,

but I myself am in possession

of my first diamond-hard erection

since the Clinton White House,
thanks to you and your words, Hank Moody.

Respect.

Tend to me, Tabby.
Take me in your mou...

Not you, Corrine, no!
You give lousy head.

You're timid, and you lack focus.
We got to get you some Ritalin.

OK, come on. Over here.

Oh, yes.

Isn't this wonderful, Hank?

You and me?
Men together.

Corrine,
see how gentle and subtle she is.

He doesn't like you, agent.

He smells your fear, your weakness.
How does that make you feel?

He could put on a suit and do your job,
and no one would know the difference.

All right, all right, that's enough!

I don't want to waste this magnificent
erection on a silly suck and fuck.

I'll be back,
and then we will finish the performance.

Keep these boys entertained, will you?

Show 'em what you got.

I'll be back.

Well, who wants to get baked?

All right, then.

- All right.
- Up high.

Hey, I'll take one of those.
What do you say?

What?

- Marce.
- You know what? I don't want to know.

Come on. No.
You need to find out.

Did you see those hideous
fucking creatures downstairs?

I don't want one of those!

Marce, I swear,
that does not happen for a long time.

They're... At first, they're so cute.
I mean, they're so...

Yeah, shitting and pissing all over the place
and making my fucking nipples bleed...

that's really fucking cute.
No, thank you!

- Marce.
- Kill me now!

Let's just do it.
Come on, let's do this thing.

- You need to...
- Fine!

Fine.

Let's do this.

All right! Let's get
this golden shower started.

Open up and say pee.

This is like...

This is like The Virgin Suicides
meets The Yule Log.

I cannot look away.

Hey, are you guys really sisters, or is
this kind of like a White Stripes deal?

Better not...
I can't.

All right, you know what?

TSTB.

TSTB.
Too stoned... to ball.

It's Stu. Stu!

No, back off, fuck toys.
This producer is looking for love.

This guy, up here.

- Moi?
- Yes, please.

Maybe just for a minute.

You smell like cigarettes
and champagne and Cool Ranch Doritos.

And it makes me strangely hard.

Number 17.

How do you like them apples?

- See you guys later.
- Apples and Doritos.

Stu, that sounds pretty good to me.
You hungry?

A little bit. A little, little bit.

Shit. Fuck. The rabbit done died.

- I'm sorry, baby.
- OK.

Quick.
Punch me in the stomach.

- Go.
- You have options.

Oh, really?

OK, my options are, I either have a fucking
abortion, or I have a fucking baby.

Those are what's commonly
known as options.

OK, so I could either vacuum
this nightmare out of my twat,

or I could settle in
for the burden of a lifetime.

Is there anything else?
Is there something behind Door #3?

How did this happen to me, Karenina?

Why does Hashem hate me?

Fuck.

OK, so who...
whose is it?

- I don't know.
- Is it Charlie's?

Fuck, no.
That kid's all snipped to shreds.

It can't be him.

It's not Rick Springfield?

He was all about the ass.

- Nice.
- Yeah.

Plus, he never came.

- What?
- No, we'd fuck for hours.

I'd come nine times.
He'd shoot a puff of smoke.

Can't be that dude.

There were... a couple of Craigslist...

- "casual encounters" here and there.
- OK.

- But I never let 'em raw-dog me.
- OK.

So, shit.
It could be an immaculate conception.

What? I'm not good enough
to get knocked up by God?

Fuck you. Some friend you are!

Come get some rest. Lie down.

I can't rest, because your fucking child
is playing devil music in my living room.

- No, it's OK. I'll go get them to stop.
- No, no, no.

They're good. Let 'em play. I like it.

It's fine. I'll be fine.

Do you think I'd make a good mom?

Yes, I think you'd make a great mom.

Fucking-A, right.

That little mutant
would be lucky to have me.

- Are you sure you're into this?
- Yes. Take me, agent.

I only ask because I'm encountering
sort of a lack of lubrication here.

Oh, it's OK. I can grin and bear it.
It'll feel like I'm a wirgin.

A "wirgin"?

Like virgin, but with a "w".
It sounds super creepy that way.

Yes. Yes, it really does.

Well...

OK, then.

Here we go.

Am I doing something wrong?
I'm not averse to a little guidance here.

It's not you. It's... It's him.

I can't screw with him watching us.
He's got that gleam in his eye.

Well, we're all just mammals here.

No. No, you don't understand.
He tried to finger my friend Jess one time.

He is highly sexual.
Just get him out of here.

Jeez! What is he throwing at me?

- His poo.
- His poo? Jesus Christ!

That is one antisocial monkey!

God!

Kong, would you get
the fuck out of here? Jeez.

Look...

Kong!

Get it off!

Get it off! Get it off!

Kong is dead!

- Long live Kong!
- Who is Kong?

The monkey! That bald scumbag
murdered our monkey!

I committed no such act!
It was self-defence.

- You killed the monkey?
- No!

I tracked down the one man in this city

who's got the dough to pull off
my fucking passion project,

and you killed his fucking monkey?

It was an accident! I swear!

That monkey was a deviant
and a cockblocker.

He was throwing his faecal matter at me!
And he bit my fucking arm!

- Murderer!
- What...

Runks! Killing an innocent
monkey in the name of getting some poon.

- Is nothing sacred?
- No one has to know about this.

I say we abscond with that corpse,
take it to Griffith Park,

and put that little
turd-fondler six feet under.

What do you need? Hush money-wise?

Hey!
Shut up,

take a look at the eye in the sky.

Hello! Yeah.
Look, they're in every room.

That means we're fucked, OK?

So listen up, you giant botcher.

We have only one play here.

And that is for you to come clean
and tell Zig before he finds out.

I want you to march
into that man's bedroom...

and tell him you killed
his fucking monkey!

- I don't want to do that.
- I'll take you. Come on.

Come on. Come on.
Come here.

Get outta here,
you fucking moron!

Hey.

Make yourself at home.

Sorry. Sorry.
I was...

I was knocking and I was ringing,
and no one answered.

So, what, you just let yourself in?

Well, the door was open
and my girl was inside.

What would you do?

OK, OK, I get it.
The exact same thing.

Which hell spawn is yours?

Pearl. The one with the pipes.

Mine's Becca, the one with the bangs.

She's pretty fierce, that one.

Tasty licks.

And you are?

I'm sorry. I'm Ben.

- Karen. Nice to meet you.
- Karen. Nice to meet you too.

Well, here you go, Karen.

Not many people can say
they have a picture

of the exact moment they
met someone for the first time,

so there you go. My gift to you.

I think this is going really well.

Hello?

- Zig.
- Zig?

- You freaky bastard, Zig.
- Zig, we got a little situation out here.

Kind of a minor
monkey incident happening.

Zig or no Zig,
I gotta take a wazz.

Hello?

Eat my peach, baby,
blow on my dice!

You gotta...

Zi... Hey, wha...

Charlie!

Charlie, we got a bit
of a predicament in here.

What?

Hey! Hey, hey, hey!
What the fuck's going on in here?

- Runkle, how did Zig take the news?
- Not so well, actually.

Oh, God!

Come on! Sweet mother of God!
Runkle, did you do that to him?!

No, I did not do that to him!

We came in here,
and that's how he was!

I mean, I am not averse to
the occasional choke and stroke,

but this is a prime example of why
one must always use the buddy system!

- This is not good. This is not good at all.
- On the bright side,

it makes the whole monkey thing
a bit less of a SNAFU, doesn't it?

- That's a good point.
- That is true.

On the other hand, it's gonna
be hard to make F&P: The Movie

- without Creepy Warbucks over here.
- It makes it impossible.

Anyway, it was a pleasure
almost working with you.

- And... yeah.
- You can't go anywhere!

- We got a serious situation here!
- The fuck I can't.

Dead monkeys
and autoerotic asphyxiation?

That's my cue.
I was never here.

What?

Not exactly a "Going down
with the ship" type, is he?

What the fuck, Hank?
What do we do now?

You have to stop yelling, firstly.

Kinda touching the dead guy there.
Don't do that.

- Shouldn't we take him down?
- Nothing good can come of that.

- Jesus.
- He really liked the script, though, huh?

He must have.
I'm flattered. Kinda.

- Hank, I'm scared.
- Yeah.

This is really dark.
This is way, way, way dark.

We got to make this go away.
Hold me, please.

Cool your jets, Runks.
I got a guy.

- Oh, shit, Hank. Shit, Hank.
- Be cool, Runks.

- Shit, shit, shit.
- Maintain.

- What's going on here, fellas?
- Just rocking out with our cocks out.

One of those parties? OK.

- And where's Mr Samitaur?
- He's inside.

- In the bathroom.
- Just hanging out.

OK. You mind if I have a word with him?

- Uh...
- Looks like somebody hit the panic button.

- He's a fucking murderer!
- Allow me to explain.

- Yeah! What? You want some of this?
- No, I don't want any of it.

You want some of this, midnight cowboy?
Let's go!

- What the fuck, Hank?
- Thank you so much for coming.

- Tell me.
- One dead billionaire, one dead monkey.

Autoerotic asphyxiation...
the billionaire, not the monkey.

- Wow. Really?
- Shit happens.

- Is he OK?
- Yeah, he just got tased.

- And him?
- Him I knocked out.

Don't be tasing my agent,
motherfucker.

- OK, self-defence.
- I like that. What's the move?

Depends.
Did you actually do anything illegal?

Is there something you're not telling me?

I did watch two sisters take off their
clothes and make out with each other,

and that made my wiener
feel a little weird.

- That's gross...
- But I don't believe that's illegal.

- It's not illegal. OK, we call...
- Maybe it should be.

We call 911. You give a statement.

I ask for a favour. We make sure
it doesn't end up all over the press.

Wow, that's grace under pressure.
I dig that in a woman.

And you look smokin' hot tonight.
You got a big date?

You know what? It's strange.

Part of me is really quite pissed off
at you right now,

because your idea of staying
out of trouble sucks balls,

but the other part, I don't know,
it feels vaguely...

- proud of you.
- Proud?

I don't think there's much
to be proud of here tonight.

A debauched party,
a couple of dead primates...

not really worthy of a gold star.

No, you absolutely
screwed the pooch, but...

calling me shows at least
a modicum of sense and...

- more than a little trust.
- Sensible and trusting.

That's me in a nutshell, really.

How high are you right now?

How high are you?

- Significantly.
- Yeah.

All right. Let me deal with this.

You OK, buddy boy?

I feel like ass.

- Like a great big slab of ass.
- Yeah.

Look on the bright side.
You inched closer to your magic number.

It was just the tip, Hank.
It doesn't count.

- Tip counts.
- You think?

Fucking-A. The tip always counts.

- The tip counts?
- Yeah.

Hold your shit together, Chunkle.

Tomorrow's another day
in the dream factory.

Don't blame yourself, buddy boy.

I got blood on my hands, Hank.

Seriously, I don't know
if I'm gonna sleep tonight.

Every time I close my eyes,
I see that sweet little monkey's face.

Marcy?

- You want to come in?
- What, tuck you in?

- Read you a bedtime story?
- No.

Your lady's chariot.

I don't think they want to
see me, Charlie.

When has that ever stopped you?

Come on, don't be a pussy.