Californication (2007–2014): Season 4, Episode 5 - Freeze-Frame - full transcript

Previously on Californication...

Quite the literary scandal
we have here.

What if she came clean?
You get your book back.

Think about Karen
and think about Becca.

This is gonna hurt them.
Is that what you want?

It's not like I'm going to
press charges or anything.

You OK, baby?

The DA's office is willing
to drop the assault charges.

- The bad news?
- You're being charged with statutory rape.

Fuck, the rabbit done died.

Why does Hashem hate me?



- OK, so whose is it?
- I don't know.

- Charlie's?
- Fuck no!

That kid's all snipped to shreds,
it can't be him.

We could actually use
a lead guitarist.

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

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?

Probably not the best time for me to be
getting involved with the actress

who's gonna play the girl
who I raped, allegedly.

That doesn't mean
I don't want one or more

of your fingers in my vagina right now.

Why you got to talk to me like that?

Mornin', sassafras!



- If you say so.
- Don't be such a naysayer.

You'll get frown lines.
Then you'll have to Botox that shit.

- Hank, what do you want?
- Oh, that.

I'd like to come in and grab
my one and only suit.

- I got some legal doings this AM.
- Too late. Threw it out.

Bullshit. You would never
throw away a man's suit.

You'd donate it, maybe,
but that's ridiculous.

- Who's needier than I am right now?
- I hate you.

I... hate you.

What do you think?
How do I look?

Like a statutory rapist in a suit.

Man, you are on fire this morning!

The wit is strong in you,
young Skywalker.

And dark too. I dig it.

Speaking of dark,
how's Lenny Kravitz?

- Excuse me?
- You know, Ben Harper.

That van-sized, caramel-coloured man
you've been hanging around with.

None of your business.

I mean, should I be worried?
He does seem dangerously cool.

Kind of like a young Lando Calrissian,
with a dream.

You have nothing to worry about, Hank.

Because worrying would be
a waste of your time.

The mailman has a better shot
than you do right now.

Have you seen our mailman?
He's quite toothsome.

Especially in his summer shorts.
No homo.

What are... Come on.

You tricked me.
You did it on purpose.

Old habits die hard.
You smell nice.

- You're a jerk.
- Like lady shampoo...

and cinnamon toothpaste.
A little bit of coffee breath.

A touch of the hal.

No worries, I'd still do ya.

Hey, sweetie.

- Well, what do you think of your old man?
- You know what they say.

You can't polish a turd.

Did he have any idea
how old you were?

No. He probably thought
I was in my 20s.

- Did he ever ask?
- No.

- Did you ever tell him?
- No.

Is it true that you punched him in the face
during intercourse?

Yes.
Twice, actually.

Why?

I...

wanted him to remember me.

- You know what this means, right?
- Yes. It's obvious.

I'm very good in bed?

That... and the prosecution
has a lame case.

And they know it too.
Expect a deal imminently.

I like it when you say "imminently."
It gets me a little hard.

- Good to know.
- OK, well, we've got to celebrate.

Slow down. It's a little early
for candles and cake.

Well, I'll be having dinner,
you can do whatever you want.

As long as it involves alcohol
and bad decisions.

- Sorry, I have a dinner tonight.
- What's his name?

- Vanessa.
- Vanessa?

- Sounds effeminate to me.
- She is.

She's also my best friend.

Will you two be brushing each other's
hair at any point during the evening?

Or perhaps gently massaging
each other's shoulders?

I see why you sleep with teenagers -
you are one.

It's true, I am kind of retarded.
But I'm also kind of amazing.

OK, don't forget you have
a 12 o'clock with Randy and Gary.

And then Lou needs to see you
in his office.

- All right.
- And Jake called.

And he needs to cancel dinner tonight.

- But he sends his love.
- J'accuse!

- Thank you, Patti. Thank you so much.
- Thank you, Patti. Very enlightening.

- Now you have to have dinner with me.
- Why, because I adjusted the truth?

I don't owe you any sort of honesty
about my personal life.

Fair enough. But you told me you were
having dinner with a woman,

which leads me to believe
you didn't want me to know

you were having dinner with a Jake.

Who is probably very handsome, very fit,
and very fuckin' boring.

Four minutes of mish, followed by
a little oral to top you off. Am I right?

Done in time for Leno.

No, you strike me as a Letterman gal.
Is that right?

And why would I mislead you like that?

Well, that's obvious.
Come on, you're sweet on me.

- Does this shit really work for you, Hank?
- Not at all.

Not really. I'm just playing. Don't be hating.
I'm in a good mood because of you.

I'm just trying to show my mucho
appreciate in my own special way.

Yes, you are special, all right.

Well...

There is something
we could discuss over dinner.

Yes, milady? Anything.

The issue of your bill.

I think I need some money, Charlie.

You want me to get you
a quickie dialogue polish or something?

You know, I was thinking about
one of those Twilight films.

They seem very popular,
and desperately in need of word polishing.

I will make some calls,
see what I can do.

You better. You know why?
'Cause this gangsta needs to get paid!

OK, now... I need to ask you a favour.

OK, Charlie,
what can I do for you?

Where's your cock?

- And there's my answer.
- Oh, I see it.

It's right under your clit.

Oh, those are your balls.
Shit. Wow.

I wanted to know if I should do a little
man-soaping before my date tonight.

Well, normally I'd be
against such a thing.

A man is at his best
when he's at his hairiest.

That's what my mom always used to say.
But in your case, I'd say shave that shit.

Send it off to the poor kids
in China or something.

Jesus, I can't look away. It's like...

a forest has grown up all around
one magic mushroom.

It's like a button on a fur coat.

Well, look on the bright side, Charlie.
It may be short, but it's thin.

So you think I should,
what, take it all off?

Yeah.
It'll make you look big. Er.

Like Johnny Wad. Ish.

- You think she'll like it?
- Hell yeah.

Who doesn't want
to nude up with Flipper?

All right. Cool.

- Should I tell Hank?
- About your newfound affinity

for milk chocolate?
Are you crazy?

About his daughter's first gig
at the Whisky, you dumb slut.

Oh, that. Right.

Yes, you should tell him.
He'd want to be there.

I don't know if it's such a good idea
'cause he's gonna get so, like...

- You have... What are you talking about?
- Good evening, ladies!

- Hey, Charlie.
- Big date.

Coming through. Make way!
Big date. Big date.

- Who's the lucky gal?
- Wouldn't you just like to know?

I don't really give a fuck, Charlie.

- I'm just making conversation.
- Who is she, Charlie?

I could pretend to be interested.

Oh, well...
Since you've asked...

I was heading into a Starbucks bathroom
when she was coming out.

We bonked heads.

Laughed about it.
Traded numbers.

She is really very pretty.

Which is good because she left some
serious stank in that bathroom, Karen.

- I almost fainted.
- Wow, talk about a cute meet.

Speaking of which, can you tell
that fucking producer friend of yours

to stop calling me?
Biggs? Biggsie?

- Beggs? Stu Beggs?
- Yeah.

Whatever the fuck.
He keeps calling and texting.

He thinks we're soul mates
or some shit.

- You're not into him?
- Fuck no! Should I be?

- Well, he is pretty rich.
- Really?

How rich we talkin' here?

I don't know. Rich.
Rich in cock too.

He's supposed to have some
legendary schvantz.

Must be nice.

OK.

I sell jewellery, but it's for men.
It's called mewellery.

- Awesome.
- Yeah, it's pretty cool.

- Wild.
- There's no profit though.

- Nice.
- Douchebag says what?

- What?
- Got ya.

Away with you. Begone!

Come here.

You should probably just go.
It's only gonna get worse.

- Hanky!
- Hey.

It's just like old times,
you rescuing me

from the clutches of
evil hipster douchebags.

Makes me wisty
for the good old days.

Are you OK?
You seem vaguely high.

There's nothing vague about it,
that's the good news.

So... what are you doing here?

- I live here. What's your excuse?
- I'm having drinks with Sasha Bingham.

She's gonna pick my brain.

Sure there's enough to go around?

Clever.
You know her?

- Sasha. Know her?
- Sasha? Well, we've met.

Well, as much as anyone
can know these actor peoples.

You fucked her, didn't you?

No. Come on. She's a...
an embryo.

A zygote. She's a tadpole.

So what was it like fucking the girl
who's supposed to play me?

- Who, by the way, you already fucked.
- Shut up with that already.

- What are you on?
- Some weed, some wine.

A little Vicodin.
I feel like I'm under a wet, warm blanket.

- That does not sound very appealing.
- You should stay and have a drink with us.

You should.

- Long time no see, Hank Moody.
- Hi, Sasha Bingham.

How are you?
Fuck.

Missed you.

I knew it!

Have you met my attorney?

Hi.

Here we go.

Not so bad.

I need to get in there, Charlie!

Wait! Wait!
Don't go! Don't go!

What the fuck, Charlie?

This is why I don't like to come here.

- I don't blame you. It's disgusting.
- I hurt myself!

What, you get shampoo
in your pee hole again?

No. I cut myself...

- man-soaping.
- Of course you did. We gotta go.

Wait! You gotta look!

I don't gotta do anything,
especially when it's disgusting.

Karen, please! Please!

It would pretty much have to be
a life or death situation, Charlie.

- You'd never recover, trust me.
- Ladies, please!

I need to know if this is
an emergency room situation.

He's bleeding on the floor.

Jesus fucking Christ, Charlie,
we're in escrow,

and you're bleeding
all over my fucking floor?

Your fucking floor? This is my fucking floor
too, and I'll bleed on it if I want to!

Holy Jesus, woman,
I'm in dire straits here!

- I'm gonna go.
- OK. Yes.

Because then I'll have
to catch up with you.

All right, let's take a look at
what we're dealing with here.

OK?

Holy Christ, Charlie,
you took it all off! Why?

I thought it would make me look big.

Er.

- Like Johnny Wad.
- Yeah.

Well, it kind of makes you look like
johnny-all-potatoes-and-no-meat.

Come on.
Let's go

put on some fucking clothes.

I'll drop you off at the ER, ya dumb fuck.

You should probably stay far away

from the Mias and the Sashas
of the world right now.

I just ran into them.
They ran into me.

It was not planned. It was kismet.

- You just run into a lot of things.
- Yes, I do. That much is true.

But enough about me.
I'd like to learn about you, Counsellor.

OK.

You'll get a kick out of this.
I wrote a novel once.

That's a shame.
What was it about?

What's every shitty first novel about?

Nothing and everything.

Mine concerned itself with the exploits
of a smart girl in the big city,

looking for Mr Right,
fucking a lot of Mr Right Nows.

All the while putting a ton of bad shit
up her nose.

I'd read that book, sister.
Fuck, I wrote that book,

like, four times before
I actually ever published anything.

- That's just my métier.
- Well, your métier was my epic failure.

I showed it to my boyfriend
at the time, a writer.

Interesting.
You like writers.

- Not any more.
- You do.

- He crapped all over it.
- Fucking cunt.

Hardly.
I shredded the novel,

broke up with the boyfriend,
and applied to law school.

In that order. Happily ever after.

How is it that your happily ever after
doesn't remotely involve a dude?

That's easy. I mean, you see me
as this piece of candy.

- I do not.
- Sure you do.

Yes, I do, actually.
But in the best way possible.

You're like a...

sexy gummi bear...

but with caramel on the inside.

Like a gummi bear wrapped around
some other kind of sweet goodness.

Thank you.

But to answer your question...

dudes have a very hard time with a woman
who's addicted to her profession.

- Maybe you just haven't met the right dude.
- Maybe.

But would I even recognise him?

Because all I ever see is
an impediment to getting my work done.

- That makes me sad.
- Why? Am I missing something?

Doesn't stop me from having sex
with who I want, when I want.

OK, I'm less sad now.

- Nothing would ever become of us, Hank.
- How do you know that?

- Let's play a little game.
- Games are fun.

Let's pretend for a moment
that for us to embark

on a sexual relationship
isn't completely

- and utterly inappropriate.
- Yes, let's.

You are aware that said relationship
would go horribly awry

once you realised I was truly single,
unencumbered,

free to love you and be with you
for the rest of my life.

You're right, that is a boner killer.

- We're a lot alike, you and me.
- I have no idea

what you're talking about,
but I think I like where this is going.

No, I'm serious.
You're a smart, charming guy...

- I do like where this is going.
- With a lot of fucked-up,

dark shit running through
that pretty little head of yours.

I can relate. I've just figured out
a better way to channel it.

- That's what the writing's for.
- But you think you can have it all, right?

Dark, swirling chaos
and the white picket fence.

- What if one feeds the other?
- What if one destroys the other?

Hold on.

Sorry. Force of habit.

My balls were just vibrating
the whole evening.

- I didn't know I had a call.
- First time I've heard that.

Let me guess, a message from
behind the white picket fence?

- How'd you know that?
- Because you actually smiled for once.

Not a smirk, a smile.

Can we have the check?
I gotta go.

Of course you do. Go.

I will...
I will call you when I know something.

And, Hank, you might consider
smiling more often.

Got me a little wet.

Thank you. We're Queens Of Dogtown.
Good night.

That was a riveting 23 seconds.

- Thanks for the heads-up.
- Consider yourself lucky

that I asked you at all.

- Thanks, man. Cheers.
- Hank!

You're such a...

Thank you.
No introduction?

Yeah. This is Ben,

and this is Hank,
Becca's father.

- Good to meet you, Hank.
- "Becca's father."

That's nice. Becca's father.

Come on, man, don't be that guy.

- Don't be that guy?
- Don't be the guy

who makes this shit
any weirder than it has to be, all right?

We're watching our girls
play some music.

There's no need for an attitude.
You disrespected me with the beer thing.

But you know what,
I'll let you have that one.

- You'll let me have that one?
- Yeah, I will.

Long as you buy the next round.

- How's that sound?
- Hey, sweetie.

So good.
God, you were great.

- Hey.
- I'm proud. Very, very proud.

Proud of you.
You were fantastic.

Thank you.

This is my dad.

I thought you said
he was out of the picture.

Hey, Hank, we're gonna take

these two little rock stars
out to get something to eat.

A little post-gig celebration.

You want to join us?

I kinda... I got a deadline
that I'm working on.

Sweetie, you were just...
I'm so proud of you.

I love you.

- I love you.
- I love you too.

- All right, go on.
- Thanks for coming.

Come on, sweetie.

Stop it, Charlie.
You're fucking clammy.

It's like holding hands
with a merman.

What else is new? I get nervous,
I get moist. You know this.

What's with all the scarring
down here?

Your scrotum feels like a relief map.

I've had a couple of vasectomies.

A couple?
What, did you have a reversal?

No, the first snip didn't take.
I had to have another.

- Doctor said it happens sometimes.
- Yeah, sometimes. Not often.

- Who was your guy?
- I don't know, some Indian fella.

Unpronounceable last name.

Over in West LA.
By the 405.

- Why are you laughing?
- I'm sorry. That's piggish, you're right.

It's just that I've heard
of you poor bastards before.

- I've just never actually met one.
- What are you talking about?

Found him in the back
of the LA Weekly, did ya?

Yeah, so?
I was a young agent on a budget.

I told you not to skimp on that shit!

Guy lost his license last year.
Malpractice.

- Why? What happened?
- Know what the other dick docs call him?

Weenie Todd, the demon urologist of
the Westside. He was a real butcher.

For whatever reason, he really enjoyed...
How do I put this delicately?

Oh, yeah, fucking around
with men's genitalia.

- Which is fine except...
- I think I'm gonna pass out.

No, no. There we go.

Hey, don't worry about it. He'll be fine.
This happens all the time.

So what exactly
are you saying here, Doc?

There still could be swimmers in his junk?

Well, I bet if he gave me a sperm sample,

we'd find a couple of little dudes
swimming around in there.

Not that he's gonna have
an erection anytime soon.

No, thank you.

- I'm not really in the mood.
- Yeah, me neither. It's Mia.

I didn't want to call 911 or anything because
I thought it might make things worse.

- Good call.
- She's really fucked up, Hank.

I can't wait to play her.

Hey, what's up, Mama Mia?

Mind if I join you...

on the ledge?

Don't know why you'd want to.

I'm not very good company tonight.

Come on, you're always good
for a laugh or two.

Bet you didn't know I was
afraid of heights, did you?

You never struck me
as scared of anything.

Negress, please!

I'm a big old fraidy cat.

You know what really terrifies
the shit out of me?

- Maple syrup.
- Maple syrup?

Yeah, I can't eat
waffles or pancakes

for fear of getting that nasty shit
all over my hands.

Croissant too.

It's the texture,
something about the...

- You know?
- I'm surprised

that you like the lady parts
as much as you do.

I love me the lady parts.
Mind you, I don't think

I'd ever go for
a vagina-flavoured cupcake,

but when you're down there
in the ladyness,

you don't want that shit
to taste like ice cream.

It's complicated.
You're laughing. That's good.

That means you're not
plummeting to your death.

I like that in a girl.

I was thinking about it, you know.

It'd be so easy to just lean forward

- and let go.
- It would be. It would be easy. Yeah.

We could...

We could go together.

- That'd really be something.
- Yeah.

Like Butch and Sundance.

Thelma and Louise.
Tango and Cash.

But somehow I don't think it's the right
ending for either one of us, Mia.

Well, so where do we go
from here, then?

Depends on where
you want to go, Mia.

Honestly...

I just want a do-over.

- Go back to being a kid.
- Me too.

Well, not a kid, exactly,
but I would like to go back to '94.

- That was a good year.
- Why?

Because I met Karen.

Then Becca was born.

It was the year that changed my life.

Plus no internet, cell phones, texting,
tweeting, twatting, twittering...

- The fucking dark ages.
- Yeah! Movies were a buck.

Gas was ten cents a gallon.

Blowjobs were free.

Speaking of which,
Clinton was in the White House,

Nirvana was on the radio.

And I had yet to fuck up the best thing
that ever happened to me.

You know what we need to do, Mia...

What's that?

We need to forgive
our fucking selves.

You understand?
Nobody's gonna do that for us.

What do you think?

Deal?

Deal.

It's a nice view, but do you think
we might go back inside now?

I'm...
I'm scared...

And I don't like to shit myself
in front of a lady.

OK.

I'm not kidding.

I'm feeling dizzy.
I'm gonna head back to my room.

No, no, no, no, no.
Let's go this way.

Take a nap.

Jesus.

Hey.

What are you doing here?

Hey, check it out.

Dude, that's awesome.
Send it to me, yeah.

- Playtime's over, ladies.
- Oh, no.

No, no. Go play amongst yourselves.

- Go on.
- Bummer.