Call Me Fitz (2010–2013): Season 2, Episode 5 - Pubic Disturbance - full transcript

Some things are timeless:

sharkskin soup, killer Sinatra,

a perfectly chilled martini,
to name but a few.

Some things in this
world are made to last.

They're first rate, top shelf.

You know, classic.

Let's not mince words here.

Oh, fuck, Larry.

Ugh.

I, Richard Fitzpatrick,

am worthy of the "classic"
distinction.



So blow me, prophecy of doom.

Classic shit endures.

It's indestructible.

And it needs to take a piss.

Yeah, this Fitzy's
meant to last.

Just like my morning woody.

Grey?

Oh!

Ugh!

Oh, Richard.

Oh, fuck, turn that down.

♪ Without you ♪

♪ I find my smile ♪

♪ Without you ♪



♪ I won by a mile ♪

♪ Without you ♪

♪ Oh life would be so grand ♪

♪ Without you ♪

♪ I'm half a man ♪

♪ Without you ♪

♪ Without you... ♪

♪ Without you ♪

Hair dye.

Someone's feeling his age.

Age doesn't matter,
unless you're a broad.

Charm and experience,
that's what counts.

And I've got lots
of experience, kitten.

Yes, and it's tragic that
someone so seasoned

will never amount to anything.

Penniless, no land

for your cheesy dream lounge,

and so repellent to women

that even that doormat
you called a girlfriend

has finally abandoned you.

Can we just fuck and get
rid of all this tension?

Mm, ask not for whom
the bell tolls.

It tolls for thee,

Richard Fitzpatrick.

No.

Boo!

Wow.

Richard, ageing
is all about stress.

So I've enrolled you
in a restorative yoga class.

There's an easy-does-it
one at 6:00.

Can't. Last-minute plans.

Richard, you need
to take this seriously.

While ageing is generally
a natural process,

with your impending
death date looming,

I fear that your decay
has somehow sped up.

How are your gums?
Any shrinkage?

Ah!

You want to know the
secret to staying young?

The three Bs.

Booze, boards
and a really nice suit.

Oh, Dexter Laine.

Yeah, the last man alive

who supposedly might have
hung out with the Rat Pack.

Fourteen marriages,
three heart attacks.

Been on the road
since he was 15.

Oh, Larry, if the seats
in his tour bus could talk,

they'd be saying, "Hey, look,
Dexter's fucking again!"

Well, I would think, Richard,

that Dexter Laine is a little
bit past that phase of his life.

Bullshit.

That bus is a rolling shrine

to the teachings of Frank
and the apostles.

Oh, Richard,
this is actually better

than a Sanskrit metaphysical
journey of self-discovery.

Dexter Laine is what you need
to keep yourself feeling young.

A positive influence
for ageing gracefully.

Please, guy's got more
plastic-surgery scars

than my mom's tits.

You want to know
the secret to staying young?

Being rich.

In experience?

No, dip-shit.

From a celebrity endorsement.

Think about it.

Dex Laine, me,
sharing the marquee

at the Summer Wind Lounge.

Investors will be lining up.

It will be money in the bank.

Isn't Dexter Laine a solo act?

Everyone needs a crew, baby.

Ah.

She's obviously
obsessed with me.

What? Who?

Dot, you moron.

It's a very complex sexual
game we're playing.

Cat and mouse,
predator and prey.

Penis and vagina.

Too bad she's already got
a boyfriend, though.

What? Who? You?

Yeah, we do things.

I mean, it's not holding hands
and making pipe bombs,

but it's almost as good.

Josh, one blow job does
not a girlfriend make.

There's been at least two.

6:00 p.m. explosion
of ageing crooner awesome!

Yeah!

Get in the car.
Okay.

Not you, Josh.

It's business.

I'm business.
I'm all types of business.

Yeah, I know you're all
types of business.

That's why I need
you here on standby.

Plan B kicks in;
you're my guy.

Plan B?
Yeah.

Holy shit.

Eyes on Dot.
Not one word.

Not one word.
Yeah.

Lips are sealed, bro.

Yeah.

Get in!
Yeah!

Oh, Mr. Laine!

Mr. Laine! Come on over!!

Thank you, baby.
Thank you, darling.

Dexter loves you.

Thank you.
Love you people.

Thank you.

Hey, you got those tickets I gave you?
Yeah.

Richard, the fact that
you are including me

in this pilgrimage
to see your idol--

I am one of your pack, the
Fitz Blitz, baby! Yeah! Yeah!

Man up, will you? Fuck.

Hey, where are you going?

See if we can get backstage.

Oh.

Hey, see that tall
guy back there?

He tried to sell me some
counterfeit tickets.

He's got some beef with Dex.

He said he was trying
to cash in or something. I--

Oh, Richard.

Counterfeit tickets
copying is fraud, son.

It's a funny story,
actually. Think--

Ah. Think, "Spooky death
prophecy meets grey pubic hair,"

and then you'll--

Cousin. Cousin!

Huh?

It's time we had a talk, huh?

I am unable to go on this way.

This is not the time for guilt.

My music gives me great joy.

Hey, not the music!

Our hip and happening
bachelor pad

has been desecrated by that
Fitzpatrick she-devil.

Shh.

Cousin, think of the fun
times we used to have, huh?

Do you remember we
used to fast so long;

we'd start to hallucinate?

Those were crazy,
crazy times! Yeah!

I cannot keep living
that debauched life.

What is he doing here?
I don't know.

You leave me no choice.

I invoke the Pashtun Valley
ritual of--

Boys' night?

Leave you alone with him?

What? So he can ship you off
to some war-torn goat party

and marry you off
to some 12-year-old?

I don't fucking think so!

You are absurd, and your breath,
it stinks like deli meat!

You do not understand.

is a time-honoured

tradition amongst my people.

Please, my mirage.

And tomorrow night, you and I

will watch
Sleepless in Seattle.

You know, two can
play at this game.

And it's called girl's
night out with tongue.

I need to be drunker.

Good night, ladies and
gentlemen, I'm Dexter Laine!

Give it up for Dexter Laine!

Hey, uh, Mr. Laine,
Richard Fitzpatrick.

Call me Fitz.

Fuck off, Fitz.

I hear you.

All those assholes trying
to get what they want from you,

and all you want to do
is unwind after your show.

All I want to do is have
regular bowel movements.

And you deserve it.

And you're the man,
king of the road.

What did you say your name was?

Fitz.

As long as it's
not Joey Bishop.

That fucking guy could not sing
for shit, and his jokes sucked.

Oh, you got that right.

You're not one of those rump
thumpers, are you, Fitz?

No, just want to talk
a little business.

All right, let's talk
a little business on the bus.

Ring-a-ding, ding.

I don't think so.

Dex!

Fuck.

Hello, Richard.

Thanks, ass bandit.

Me? You blame this on me?

You set me up.

How else was I supposed
to get backstage?

There goes my celebrity
endorsement deal.

Some things are more important
than deals, Richard,

like honesty, friendship,

using your limited time
on this earth to do good.

You see how much shit
that guy sells?

He puts his name
on a fucking prune,

and ca-ching,
he's shitting gold bullion.

Oh, that's like magic.

No, this is our
only shot at this.

Next time he rolls through
this town, we'll both be dead.

Richard, you still
have your dealership.

Maybe that's legacy, enough.

Great, toxic old man,
psycho office manager,

stoned mechanic
who can't fix shit.

Oh, I wouldn't say that.

I mean, it might
take him a while,

but Josh can fix pretty
much anything on wheels.

Yeah, if Fitzy
can't get to the bus,

the bus will come to Fitzy.

Where are you going?
Plan B.

I cannot believe
you sabotaged that bus.

Richard, plans born
of corruption can only lead

to greater corruption
and anxiety-fuelled heartburn,

which leads
to premature ageing,

which leads to death,

which leads us right
back to square one.

Will you just close your eyes?

It will be over
before you know it.

Look, Richard, I know
you're anxious about achieving

your dream-lounge fantasy
before you die.

Exactly, Larry.

My dream-lounge fantasy,
not yours,

which means I can attain
it however I want.

Hey, Josh!

Josh!

Working girls, stat!

And not the cheap ones
from the mall.

The expensive ones

from the mall.

And I need you to fix this bus.

That could take weeks, though.

I'm banking on it.

Where the fuck am I?

Fitzpatrick Motors,
Mr. Laine.

Richard Fitzpatrick,
we met backstage.

Yeah, I meet lots of people.

I bet you do.

What did you say your name was?

Fitz.
As long as it's not Bishop.

That fucking guy
couldn't sing for shit.

And you know what they
said about his jokes?

No.

They sucked.

I like your style, kid.

You're not one of those
derriere dandies, are you?

No, I'm your biggest fan.

Hey, why don't you come inside
for a cocktail? Relax.

I put my best man on this.

Easy.

Hey, Kabar.

Hey, man, listen, I need
a chrome engine case for a bus.

Yeah. Yeah.

Put me down for a kilo, dude.

Yeah.
You said it, dude.

Borders don't cross themselves.

Okay, bye-bye.

Whoa!

Hi.

What's with the bus?

What bus?

Josh, tell me about the bus.

There's not really
anything tell.

I mean, it's just
an ordinary tour bus.

It's just--

Now tell me about the tour bus.

It's Plan B!

Fitzy's ticket out of here.

His shot at the b-b-big time.

I got a girlfriend.

Here we are.

We're backstage at the Copa.

I'm waiting for Frank
to give the nod.

I get up to take a leak.

That cocksucker Bishop
took my cue.

Man's got to have a crew
he can count on.

That fucking guy could
not sing for shit.

And his jokes sucked.

Ah, I like you, kid.

Hey, Uncle D.,

Dex, Dex, hey, I want to talk
to you about something.

Shoot.

It's a little business thing

I've been working on
for a while.

Oh, stop living
in the past, kid!

For chrissake!

Did I tell you about Miami?

Called the Summer Wind Lounge.

That fucking Bishop could
not sign for shit.

And his jokes sucked.

They sucked!
Sucked!

Ah, suck it.

Hey, hey, hey,
it's a real old-school lounge.

You know,
like the good old days,

like the Sands, like the Copa.

Did you see Ocean's?

Not half the vibe
it could have been.

That was supposed
to be my vehicle.

Tell me another story, Uncle D.

This fucking kid
comes running backstage.

He says, "Jesus,
Frank's fucking a boy!"

I said, for chrissake,
it's Mia Farrow!

When men were men and--

Fuck Bishop!

Fucking Bishop!

You make me feel
young again, kid.

Yeah, you too, buddy.

What are you doing?

Just pitching in.

Helping to repair a bus
that seems to be taking

an exorbitant amount
of time to fix.

I didn't know you were
mechanically minded.

Oh, women are capable
of many things, Larry.

Yes, yes, indeed.

Mm, Lizzie Borden,
Margaret Thatcher,

both the Madonnas.

Oh, we're an integral
part of the ecosystem.

We're multitaskers.

Judge, jury,

executioner.

Oh?

Did you know
the female praying mantis

has cannibalistic tendencies?

Nope.
Mm-hm.

During sex she eats
the male's head as he thrusts.

You know why?

Unh-unh.

So he'll perform better.

Make the most of what sad
little life

he's got left.

Sonya, where the hell are you?

The fuck?

Really, Sonya?

Staging your own abduction
not avoid girls' night?

Again?

Ugh!

Oh, guests. Hi.

A little chilly for that.

What--?

Uh, Richard, there are
a couple of gentlemen

with guns eating my Brie.

Yeah, can't be Rat Pack without
mob contracts, shithead.

Mob contracts?

For the Summer Wind.

Giving Uncle D.
and I a sweet deal

on plumbing and call girls.

Okay, Richard, Dot knows

that you sabotaged
Dexter Laine's bus.

So?
"So"?

She is dangerous.

There is a foul plan afoot.

The only plan that
broad has is to nail me.

No, I would--
I would avoid that.

Mob contracts and death
prophecy, my Brie.

Okay, first, shut the fuck
up about the prophecy.

And second, you don't know squat
about the way things work.

You think Vegas was
built in a day?

The Sands, the Trop'?

'Icana?
Yeah.

He said, no, huh?

He hasn't said shit.

The guy can barely
remember his own name.

Between the handfuls of poppers

and the same story
over and over--

Fuck him! You know who!
Fuck him!

Wait, pulls?

Same stories?

How old did you say he is?

Real men don't
discuss their age.

It's rude.
Alzheimer's!

Richard, don't you see?

Dexter is more of a mentor
than you'll ever know.

He keeps on keeping on,

even though he can't remember
what he did five minutes ago.

So those aren't poppers?
They're meds.

Yeah, and we need to keep
him away from the alcohol.

Yeah, because that would
really fuck his shit up,

impair his judgement.

Richard,

you're feeling empathy.

No, I'm not.

I'm trying to figure out

how to get him really loaded,

so he'll sign on
the dotted line.

Of course you are.

Mm!

Mm.

Cousin, I can almost
hear those landmines

exploding in the distance.

Yes, it is just like home.

Hey, the tribal
elders might say,

"What is the problem,
dude, huh?"

We are not in the old country.

I moved on.

You certainly moved on,
from one thing only.

And that is me,

the one person who always
tries to make you happy.

Meghan makes me happy too,
just in other ways.

Oh, so many ways.

What happens, hm?

What happens when you marry
your second cousin?

She has no place in your life.

Those Fitzpatricks,
they are the enemy!

And deep down you know that.

Hey, Uncle D.!
It's me, Fitzy!

This isn't a fuck bus.
It's just a rolling morgue.

Where the hell am I?

Um, at the Copa, Uncle D.

Backstage, packed house.

Henny just finished his set,
and I got good news.

You got the nod.

Place of your own.

Frankie know about this?

Oh, yeah!

At first he was
thinking Bishop,

but then he realized
you're the man for the job.

Spotlight's all yours.

Top name on the bill.

Booze and hookers on the house.

Forget it, kid.

It's all an act.

I haven't had real booze
or pussy since '74.

Mr. Laine, you are
the last of an era.

And look at you, man.

It is what it is, kid.

I'm-- I'm going to be dead
in two years anyway.

I might only have
a couple of weeks left.

But guys like me,
we need guys like you.

And guys like us,

we don't go out like this.

I am worth 40 million.

That could buy
a little more time

or a lot of fun.

You got to get off
this fucking bus, man.

I like your style, kid.

Yeah.

What did you say your name was?

Fitz.

Oh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh.

Hello, red.

Fuck off, Fitz.

Ooh, diddy like.

Sabotaging an old man's bus,

deals with the mob about a bar
that doesn't exits, clever.

You have no idea
what you're talking about.

Dexter Laine and I
have plans, big plans.

It will blow this place
right out of the water.

One day, if you play
your cards right,

maybe I'll even let
you climb aboard.

We'll see how he feels

after I tell him what
a degenerate you are.

Be my guest.

Oh, hey, hey, hey,
you can't smoke in here.

I can do any fucking
thing I want!

I'm Ken fucking Fitzpatrick.

The Germans couldn't kill me.

The Japs couldn't kill me.

Cancer's not going to kill me.

You fought in the war?

The war of high fucking prices!

I've outlasted every dealer
on this miserable strip.

No way I'm going to let

some scalpel jockey
take my nuts.

What's your problem

besides your face?

Don't joke, Daddy.
I'm not in the mood.

Ruptal and I, we--

I think it's over.

Bullshit!
You're a Fitzpatrick!

We decide when it's over.

We decide how
it's going to end.

Anything else is a pussy move.

You know what the problem is

with the rest
of the world, Larry?

They're always
three drinks behind.

I'm proud of you, Richard.

This is real progress,

and I'm so glad that it
all worked out for once.

It's a real legacy,
built on mentorship and trust.

Yeah, by now he's probably
balls-deep in Dot.

You--? You--?

You left her alone
with Dexter Laine?

Yeah, a little bonus
for my new partner.

No, no, no, the praying mantis.

She eats the head.

She--

She eats the head!

♪ Those fingers in my hair ♪

♪ That sly "come hither" stare ♪

♪ That strips
my conscience bare ♪

♪ It's witchcraft ♪

♪ And I've got
no defence for it ♪

♪ The heat is too
intense for it ♪

♪ What good would
common sense for it do? ♪

♪ 'Cause it's witchcraft ♪

♪ Wicked witchcraft ♪

♪ And although I know ♪

♪ It's strictly taboo ♪

♪ When you arouse
the need in me ♪

♪ My heart says,
"Yes, indeed, " in me ♪

♪ Proceed with what
you're leading me to ♪

♪ It's such an ancient pitch ♪

♪ But one I wouldn't switch ♪

♪ 'Cause there's no nicer
witch than you ♪

We were just talking.
That poor man.

He was so--
So vital.

So well preserved.

A celebrity endorsement
from a stiff

is worth jack shit.

And now I'm in Dutch
with the mob.

Thanks, cock docket.

It's not me, Richard.
We are jinxed.

The curse, I--
I tried to warn you.

Warn me about what, Larry?

Fucking what?

You know what they say:

tragedy always
comes in threes, dude.

One more to go.

Fuck.

Sync & corrections by Monkeymann