Mike & Molly (2010–2016): Season 5, Episode 2 - To Have and Withhold - full transcript
Molly has writer's block...and she might lose her big advance if she doesn't cure it fast.
Previously on Mike & Molly...
Well, for eight intense weeks,
I was surrounded
by brilliant novelists
and poets and playwrights.
Sounds wonderful.
No, it was awful.
They hated my writing.
- Aw, honey, I'm sorry.
- No, don't be.
The more they hated it,
the more it drove me.
I dug deep, I found my voice.
I bet you have
a beautiful voice.
No, turns out my voice has
the mouth of a sailor.
Ooh, that's a spicy blurb.
That's what the
publisher said...
when he bought my book.
Oh!
What did you do?
I bought us...
(using announcer voice):
a brand new car!
This Dodge Challenger
comes fully equipped
with a heated steering wheel
and illuminated cup holders.
What?
(hammering)
What are you doing?
What are you doing?!
Writing.
I mean, you know, obviously
not at this exact second.
But I was trying to write,
and the drip under the sink was
driving me crazy,
so I had to get a wrench
out of the junk drawer,
which is organized.
You're welcome.
Turns out that drip was
masking, like, a humming,
like a high-pitched
brain-piercing hum,
which actually is not coming
from the fuse box,
which is now labeled.
You're welcome.
Turns out it was
behind this thing,
which is now all cleaned
out and color-coded.
You're welcome.
Still doesn't get
us to the shoe.
Oh.
Well, I think
that's pretty obvious.
The shoe is a, um...
it's a cry for help.
Oh, Mol.
I don't know what
I'm supposed to do.
I've got a publisher
breathing down my neck,
and I haven't written
more than a couple of words
since I got home.
Sweetie, you got to write.
You're our meal ticket.
What can we do to help?
Nothing, unless you have
enough dirty sex stories
to fill half a book.
Okay, you'd better make
a fresh pot of coffee. Oh, God.
We're gonna be here a while.
♪ La, la-ba-dee-da ♪
♪ La, la-ba-dee-da ♪
♪ For the first time
in my life ♪
♪ I see love ♪
♪ I see love ♪
♪ For the first time
in my life ♪
♪ I see love ♪
(phone rings)
MOLLY: Don't answer it!
Don't answer it!
Don't answer it!
Don't answer it! No!
Whoa!
God, why not?
'Cause it's my publisher.
And he wants the book.
Do you have a book to give him?
'Cause I sure as hell don't.
(sighs) Thank God.
Yeah, she's here.
Don't. No, no.
No.
Wait, scratch that.
I am mistaken.
Ms. Flynn is not here.
That was my reflection
in the mirror.
She has stepped out and
won't be back for...
Two... Three-three.
No, two.
You know, I'm gonna have
to put you on hold for a second.
♪ Ba-da-da-da-da da-da-da ♪
♪ Ba-da-da-da-da ♪
♪ Da-da-da ♪
A week, give me a week.
♪ Ba-da-da-da-da da-da. ♪
Thanks for holding.
Ms. Flynn should be
back in a week.
All right.
You, too.
Thank you.
My pleasure.
I've dodged many a
phone call in my day.
AT&T and Rent-A-Center
both think I drowned
on a white-water rafting trip.
A week. What am I supposed
to do with a week?
I don't know, write a book.
Really?
What? I just don't
understand the process.
The process is...
if I don't finish this book,
they're gonna want
the advance back.
Which, if you remember,
we blew on a muscle car.
You blew.
Really?
You want to finger-point
right now?
Okay, all right, I'm sorry.
Listen.
I think I know what you need.
Flynn!
Get your butt in that seat
and your fingers
on that keyboard!
I am sick of hearing
your whiney-ass excuses!
I want results, not
reasons, so shut your mouth
and don't get up until
you have typed "The End"!
Do I make myself clear?!
Oh, no, no, no.
No, no, no, no, no.
No. No. I should have been
the understanding husband.
I'm sorry. It's okay.
You yelled at me!
And-and now we know
that doesn't work.
(crying)
I wish I could help Molly
with her writing,
but it's beyond my skill set.
I'm more of a
"take out the trash
and kill the spiders"
type of husband.
You're scared of spiders.
I said "type."
All right, when was the
last time Molly wrote something?
At her writers' workshop.
She came up with all that
kinky stuff in only two months?
My, the circus orgy alone
was very intricate.
Yeah.
The sword-swallower,
the contortionist, you know?
All those clowns
coming out of that Murphy bed.
There was a lot of moving parts.
Wait. You read her book?
Page by page.
Every night,
Victoria picks a section,
and we try to come
as close as we can to doing
what the characters are doing.
Have you no decency?
No, I do not.
Oh.
Uh, I also have
no shame, no inhibitions,
and from the belly button down,
no body hair.
So that looks like...
Ah, never mind.
Let me ask you something.
Since she's returned,
have you and Molly been having
regular relations?
In what world do you think
I'm gonna answer that?
Well, since she's been back,
he's been ordering
cottage cheese, so
someone's seeing him naked.
Yeah, seems to me
she was writing a lot
when she wasn't getting any.
Now that she's back,
you got her off track,
'cause now she's getting plenty.
Really, Dr. Seuss?
Is that your diagnosis?
Well,
think about it.
Why do boxers abstain
before a big fight?
Because it's hard
to pleasure themselves
with those big gloves?
It's 'cause sex saps
their strength, all right?
A little self-denial keeps 'em
focused, sharp, on their game.
Molly's not a boxer.
She's a writer.
Who hasn't written a word
ever since she got home
and started workin'
your heavy bag.
Please. You're just talking
out of your shaved ass.
Well, he may have a point.
In Africa, I had an uncle
who was an artist.
When starting a new painting,
he'd go off into the
mountains by himself,
leaving his many wives at home.
When he returned, he'd
have a beautiful canvas.
See? 'Cause he didn't have sex.
Well, we were never really sure.
A lot of the paintings
were of frightened sheep.
(whistling)
(sighs)
Ooh.
(indistinct voices
and cheering on TV)
MOLLY: No!
No! No! No!
God!
I'm trying to write in there.
Are you kidding?
Last time I was in the kitchen,
you were bleaching the grout.
Well, that's my process, okay?
So no TV!
Just because
you can't buckle down
and write your dirty book, we
all got to live like Mennonites?
Yes.
So, what am I supposed to do?
I don't care!
Go outside and play.
There's nobody to play with.
Can't you just go play
by yourself?
I played with myself yesterday.
I can't do it again. I'm 60.
Maybe I'll go ask if the old guy
across the street wants
to go throw rocks off a bridge.
(groans)
What did I tell
you about leaving
your hemorrhoid
pillow laying around?
I'm in a flare-up.
It's like I'm trying
to pass a Chinese throwing star.
Ew!
Wow! I bet
we couldn't do that again.
Okay. Okay, we're gonna
give this one a 12
for difficulty.
If we get this one,
we're champions of the world.
Shh. When you talk, the plunger moves.
Sorry.
Sorry, I'm nervous.
(sighs)
(whoops) U.S.A.!
BOTH:
U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!
(Vince whoops)
What the hell's going on here?
She turned off the TV.
Hey, look at you.
Hold on.
Just finishing up.
(printer whirring)
How many pages you get done?
Just the one.
This is a letter
to your publisher.
It's a proposal to turn
my novel into a novella.
(laughs) What's a novella?
Oh, it's a novel.
Just, you know, one with, uh...
(mumbles)
...64 pages.
You know, that way, I
can just slap a "The End"
on this sucker and
be done with it.
So it would just end
in the middle of the story?
Well, do you have a better idea?
Because I don't.
You know why?
'Cause I don't have
ideas anymore.
I haven't written a single
word since I got back.
I'm... That's it!
I'm done! I'm tapped!
No, you're not.
You have me.
And together, we will do,
or not do,
whatever it takes
to get you writing again.
Really?
You can count on it.
I'm in your corner, champ.
I'm not gonna shake your hand.
I love you.
I love you, too.
(laughs)
S-Sweetie, what-what are you
doing down there?
Aren't-aren't you supposed
to be working on your book?
Oh, I am.
I'm just tweaking the ending.
(whoops loudly) Molly!
(laughs)
Come on!
No!
I need a little something
to clear my head. No, no!
You need to keep working,
because Oh.
I'm-I'm... I'm not in the mood.
What? You are
always in the mood.
You tried to get my bra off
while we were
watching Hotel Rwanda.
You'd already seen it.
Mike.
No.
You know you want to.
No, not tonight.
(laughing)
I am... I am so gassy.
I'm gassy.
(singsongy): If you're trying
to repulse me, it's not working.
(laughing): Molly, no. No.
Oh, maybe. No! No!
Now, no means no!
Now, you call me
when you want to cuddle.
Well, I did it.
I didn't do it.
What?
At 8:55 P.M. last night,
for the first time in his life,
Mike Biggs turned down sex.
Well, I know it was hard.
Literally.
But mark my words,
this is gonna work.
That's what I'm afraid of.
Molly's able to write again,
and instead of having sex,
I'm stuck playing
hemorrhoid ring toss with Vince.
You know, you could just
take a cold shower. Okay.
Plus, there are a lot of
other things besides sex
that can keep a couple together.
Just look at us, huh?
We're not intimate,
yet we still care deeply
about each other.
You know? Concerned about
the other's wants and needs.
Finish each other's...
I'm not saying that.
Come on!
Don't be a...
Jackass! See?
Till death do us part.
(doorbell ringing)
What do you want?
I need somewhere
to write, Peggy.
No distractions, no one
to talk to, no Internet.
Just a place where
fun comes to die.
Welcome.
Thank you.
Ooh. It even smells
like solitary confinement.
No need to butter me up.
I said you could stay.
Can I just set up over in here?
Doesn't matter
to me. You're in the way
wherever you are.
You want to bounce anything
off me, just let me know.
Uh, I-I'm good.
No bouncing, just writing.
Understood.
I'm probably
your target audience.
Who cares what I think?
This book isn't exactly
for the churchgoing crowd.
Are you kidding?
Have you ever read the Bible?
Sodom and Gomorrah, Lot
sleeping with his daughters.
That book is chock-full
of spilled seed.
Wow. No wonder
you're always going to church.
For that, and to see who died.
In a way, the holy scriptures
were my gateway
to my shelves of sin.
What-what are you talking
about, your "shelves of sin"?
(Molly laughs)
Oh, my God!
This whole wall is X-rated.
I-I've never noticed it.
I mean, I just assumed
these were all Westerns.
Oh, some of 'em
got horses in 'em.
Personally, I prefer...
a raunchy bodice-ripper.
A good romp in the barouche.
I don't even know
what that means.
Classic erotica.
Your Lady Chatterley's,
Story of O, Candy.
"Banned in Paris."
That's all I needed to hear.
Those Frenchies are les pigs.
Peggy, I had no idea.
Oh, yeah.
I've been alone for a long time.
If I didn't have some release,
I'd be a pretty angry woman.
So, these were just out
the whole time Mike was a kid?
I knew he wouldn't get into 'em.
Books were as safe
as celery in this house.
(whistles)
She got more than 50% off.
I shouldn't be doing this.
It's like watching Ace of
Cakes when I'm on a diet.
That's not right.
Still works.
Hey!
Hey! Where you been all day?
At your mother's,
trying to write.
I thought that was where
fun went to die. (laughs)
Well, now, it's where
I go to write,
because I wrote 15
of the best pages
I have ever written.
Isn't it great?
Yeah!
Because that means you're gonna
be done soon, right?
Oh, no, no, no.
These new pages have opened up,
like, a whole new subplot.
I think I'm on to a trilogy.
I can't hold out for a trilogy.
What are you talking about?
Oh, nothing.
I mean, just don't get ahead
of yourself, you know?
Finish the first one,
then take a little break.
Maybe, like, a year or two.
You know, just whatever it takes
to recharge the engine.
I don't know. I'm just so happy
to be writing again.
What do you say
we celebrate all my hard work
by going upstairs
and making up for last night?
Right now?
Mm-hmm.
Molly, a guy likes
a little foreplay.
Okay.
I'll go up ahead of you.
You can do that grabby thing.
Come on. You do
that grabby thing.
I love that.
No.
Look, I can't just turn
it on like that, okay?
Yeah, you can.
Come on. I'm starting
to take this personally.
Oh, God. Are you not attracted
to me anymore?
Oh, no. Of course I am.
You're beautiful, you're sexy,
you got the cutest
little dimples, but
I can't.
You know what?
I got enough things
destroying my confidence.
I don't need you
to be one of 'em.
Molly, wait. I'm doing this
to help you.
How is this helping me?
Okay, well...
How can I put this?
You're like a boxer.
Because I want
to punch you in the face?
No. Because writing
is like fighting.
You got to stay focused.
And when we have sex, well,
it... it saps your strength.
What?!
Why do you think
you got so much writing done
in Iowa?
Because I wasn't there
to tempt you.
So, you put all your pent-up
desires onto the page.
Where did you get
such a dopey idea?
Carl.
Carl. Yeah. Really?!
Well, look,
I don't like that he's right,
either, but now we have proof.
15 pages of people doing
all sorts of nasty things
that we didn't get
to do last night.
You're listening to Carl.
I just... I need you
to hear that.
Let... let that sink in!
Well, the man's been
wrong his entire life.
You got to figure he's due.
No!
No, you don't. No, you don't,
and especially not
when it's about us.
Okay? Our love is strong
and healthy,
and it has nothing
to do with my work.
What we have is special,
and we're not gonna let some
stupid superstition ruin that.
You're right.
Carl's an idiot.
Get upstairs.
(giggling)
I'm getting close.
Son of a bitch!
(cheering, whistle blows on TV,
door closes)
MAN (on TV): Incomplete.
(indistinct shouting on TV)
Aw, no!
God,
I knew I should have
held back last night.
That second one was just greedy.
Well, we don't know that
what we did last night
is responsible
for what I didn't do today.
Oh, don't be naive.
Face the facts! We run too hot,
and that's no good!
Well, what are we gonna do?
What can we do?
You got to finish this book!
Well, I'm not picking
the book over us.
Yes, you are.
'Cause you have a husband
that believes in you,
and more importantly,
wants the money.
Ah! So do I.
Is that bad?
No. I've been without sex,
and I've been without money.
Right now, I choose money.
Oh.
That's why we're
so good together!
Okay, okay, okay.
From now on,
until you finish that book,
this house is officially
a sex-free zone.
Okay. What about the rewrite?
We will cross that cold and
lonely bridge when we get to it.
I love you!
I love you, too.
(grunts)
Hey, how's it going today?
It's amazing.
Since we stopped having sex,
this thing writes itself.
That's great, honey.
Hey, can I read you something?
I'm not sure if it works or not.
Sure.
Okay.
(sighs)
"Slowly, she stepped
from the bath,
"knowing his eye was pressed
greedily at the keyhole.
"She placed one leg on the tub,
flesh glistening.
"A bead of water wove its way
to the place he had only dreamed
of touching."
Yeah, that works!
Well, for eight intense weeks,
I was surrounded
by brilliant novelists
and poets and playwrights.
Sounds wonderful.
No, it was awful.
They hated my writing.
- Aw, honey, I'm sorry.
- No, don't be.
The more they hated it,
the more it drove me.
I dug deep, I found my voice.
I bet you have
a beautiful voice.
No, turns out my voice has
the mouth of a sailor.
Ooh, that's a spicy blurb.
That's what the
publisher said...
when he bought my book.
Oh!
What did you do?
I bought us...
(using announcer voice):
a brand new car!
This Dodge Challenger
comes fully equipped
with a heated steering wheel
and illuminated cup holders.
What?
(hammering)
What are you doing?
What are you doing?!
Writing.
I mean, you know, obviously
not at this exact second.
But I was trying to write,
and the drip under the sink was
driving me crazy,
so I had to get a wrench
out of the junk drawer,
which is organized.
You're welcome.
Turns out that drip was
masking, like, a humming,
like a high-pitched
brain-piercing hum,
which actually is not coming
from the fuse box,
which is now labeled.
You're welcome.
Turns out it was
behind this thing,
which is now all cleaned
out and color-coded.
You're welcome.
Still doesn't get
us to the shoe.
Oh.
Well, I think
that's pretty obvious.
The shoe is a, um...
it's a cry for help.
Oh, Mol.
I don't know what
I'm supposed to do.
I've got a publisher
breathing down my neck,
and I haven't written
more than a couple of words
since I got home.
Sweetie, you got to write.
You're our meal ticket.
What can we do to help?
Nothing, unless you have
enough dirty sex stories
to fill half a book.
Okay, you'd better make
a fresh pot of coffee. Oh, God.
We're gonna be here a while.
♪ La, la-ba-dee-da ♪
♪ La, la-ba-dee-da ♪
♪ For the first time
in my life ♪
♪ I see love ♪
♪ I see love ♪
♪ For the first time
in my life ♪
♪ I see love ♪
(phone rings)
MOLLY: Don't answer it!
Don't answer it!
Don't answer it!
Don't answer it! No!
Whoa!
God, why not?
'Cause it's my publisher.
And he wants the book.
Do you have a book to give him?
'Cause I sure as hell don't.
(sighs) Thank God.
Yeah, she's here.
Don't. No, no.
No.
Wait, scratch that.
I am mistaken.
Ms. Flynn is not here.
That was my reflection
in the mirror.
She has stepped out and
won't be back for...
Two... Three-three.
No, two.
You know, I'm gonna have
to put you on hold for a second.
♪ Ba-da-da-da-da da-da-da ♪
♪ Ba-da-da-da-da ♪
♪ Da-da-da ♪
A week, give me a week.
♪ Ba-da-da-da-da da-da. ♪
Thanks for holding.
Ms. Flynn should be
back in a week.
All right.
You, too.
Thank you.
My pleasure.
I've dodged many a
phone call in my day.
AT&T and Rent-A-Center
both think I drowned
on a white-water rafting trip.
A week. What am I supposed
to do with a week?
I don't know, write a book.
Really?
What? I just don't
understand the process.
The process is...
if I don't finish this book,
they're gonna want
the advance back.
Which, if you remember,
we blew on a muscle car.
You blew.
Really?
You want to finger-point
right now?
Okay, all right, I'm sorry.
Listen.
I think I know what you need.
Flynn!
Get your butt in that seat
and your fingers
on that keyboard!
I am sick of hearing
your whiney-ass excuses!
I want results, not
reasons, so shut your mouth
and don't get up until
you have typed "The End"!
Do I make myself clear?!
Oh, no, no, no.
No, no, no, no, no.
No. No. I should have been
the understanding husband.
I'm sorry. It's okay.
You yelled at me!
And-and now we know
that doesn't work.
(crying)
I wish I could help Molly
with her writing,
but it's beyond my skill set.
I'm more of a
"take out the trash
and kill the spiders"
type of husband.
You're scared of spiders.
I said "type."
All right, when was the
last time Molly wrote something?
At her writers' workshop.
She came up with all that
kinky stuff in only two months?
My, the circus orgy alone
was very intricate.
Yeah.
The sword-swallower,
the contortionist, you know?
All those clowns
coming out of that Murphy bed.
There was a lot of moving parts.
Wait. You read her book?
Page by page.
Every night,
Victoria picks a section,
and we try to come
as close as we can to doing
what the characters are doing.
Have you no decency?
No, I do not.
Oh.
Uh, I also have
no shame, no inhibitions,
and from the belly button down,
no body hair.
So that looks like...
Ah, never mind.
Let me ask you something.
Since she's returned,
have you and Molly been having
regular relations?
In what world do you think
I'm gonna answer that?
Well, since she's been back,
he's been ordering
cottage cheese, so
someone's seeing him naked.
Yeah, seems to me
she was writing a lot
when she wasn't getting any.
Now that she's back,
you got her off track,
'cause now she's getting plenty.
Really, Dr. Seuss?
Is that your diagnosis?
Well,
think about it.
Why do boxers abstain
before a big fight?
Because it's hard
to pleasure themselves
with those big gloves?
It's 'cause sex saps
their strength, all right?
A little self-denial keeps 'em
focused, sharp, on their game.
Molly's not a boxer.
She's a writer.
Who hasn't written a word
ever since she got home
and started workin'
your heavy bag.
Please. You're just talking
out of your shaved ass.
Well, he may have a point.
In Africa, I had an uncle
who was an artist.
When starting a new painting,
he'd go off into the
mountains by himself,
leaving his many wives at home.
When he returned, he'd
have a beautiful canvas.
See? 'Cause he didn't have sex.
Well, we were never really sure.
A lot of the paintings
were of frightened sheep.
(whistling)
(sighs)
Ooh.
(indistinct voices
and cheering on TV)
MOLLY: No!
No! No! No!
God!
I'm trying to write in there.
Are you kidding?
Last time I was in the kitchen,
you were bleaching the grout.
Well, that's my process, okay?
So no TV!
Just because
you can't buckle down
and write your dirty book, we
all got to live like Mennonites?
Yes.
So, what am I supposed to do?
I don't care!
Go outside and play.
There's nobody to play with.
Can't you just go play
by yourself?
I played with myself yesterday.
I can't do it again. I'm 60.
Maybe I'll go ask if the old guy
across the street wants
to go throw rocks off a bridge.
(groans)
What did I tell
you about leaving
your hemorrhoid
pillow laying around?
I'm in a flare-up.
It's like I'm trying
to pass a Chinese throwing star.
Ew!
Wow! I bet
we couldn't do that again.
Okay. Okay, we're gonna
give this one a 12
for difficulty.
If we get this one,
we're champions of the world.
Shh. When you talk, the plunger moves.
Sorry.
Sorry, I'm nervous.
(sighs)
(whoops) U.S.A.!
BOTH:
U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!
(Vince whoops)
What the hell's going on here?
She turned off the TV.
Hey, look at you.
Hold on.
Just finishing up.
(printer whirring)
How many pages you get done?
Just the one.
This is a letter
to your publisher.
It's a proposal to turn
my novel into a novella.
(laughs) What's a novella?
Oh, it's a novel.
Just, you know, one with, uh...
(mumbles)
...64 pages.
You know, that way, I
can just slap a "The End"
on this sucker and
be done with it.
So it would just end
in the middle of the story?
Well, do you have a better idea?
Because I don't.
You know why?
'Cause I don't have
ideas anymore.
I haven't written a single
word since I got back.
I'm... That's it!
I'm done! I'm tapped!
No, you're not.
You have me.
And together, we will do,
or not do,
whatever it takes
to get you writing again.
Really?
You can count on it.
I'm in your corner, champ.
I'm not gonna shake your hand.
I love you.
I love you, too.
(laughs)
S-Sweetie, what-what are you
doing down there?
Aren't-aren't you supposed
to be working on your book?
Oh, I am.
I'm just tweaking the ending.
(whoops loudly) Molly!
(laughs)
Come on!
No!
I need a little something
to clear my head. No, no!
You need to keep working,
because Oh.
I'm-I'm... I'm not in the mood.
What? You are
always in the mood.
You tried to get my bra off
while we were
watching Hotel Rwanda.
You'd already seen it.
Mike.
No.
You know you want to.
No, not tonight.
(laughing)
I am... I am so gassy.
I'm gassy.
(singsongy): If you're trying
to repulse me, it's not working.
(laughing): Molly, no. No.
Oh, maybe. No! No!
Now, no means no!
Now, you call me
when you want to cuddle.
Well, I did it.
I didn't do it.
What?
At 8:55 P.M. last night,
for the first time in his life,
Mike Biggs turned down sex.
Well, I know it was hard.
Literally.
But mark my words,
this is gonna work.
That's what I'm afraid of.
Molly's able to write again,
and instead of having sex,
I'm stuck playing
hemorrhoid ring toss with Vince.
You know, you could just
take a cold shower. Okay.
Plus, there are a lot of
other things besides sex
that can keep a couple together.
Just look at us, huh?
We're not intimate,
yet we still care deeply
about each other.
You know? Concerned about
the other's wants and needs.
Finish each other's...
I'm not saying that.
Come on!
Don't be a...
Jackass! See?
Till death do us part.
(doorbell ringing)
What do you want?
I need somewhere
to write, Peggy.
No distractions, no one
to talk to, no Internet.
Just a place where
fun comes to die.
Welcome.
Thank you.
Ooh. It even smells
like solitary confinement.
No need to butter me up.
I said you could stay.
Can I just set up over in here?
Doesn't matter
to me. You're in the way
wherever you are.
You want to bounce anything
off me, just let me know.
Uh, I-I'm good.
No bouncing, just writing.
Understood.
I'm probably
your target audience.
Who cares what I think?
This book isn't exactly
for the churchgoing crowd.
Are you kidding?
Have you ever read the Bible?
Sodom and Gomorrah, Lot
sleeping with his daughters.
That book is chock-full
of spilled seed.
Wow. No wonder
you're always going to church.
For that, and to see who died.
In a way, the holy scriptures
were my gateway
to my shelves of sin.
What-what are you talking
about, your "shelves of sin"?
(Molly laughs)
Oh, my God!
This whole wall is X-rated.
I-I've never noticed it.
I mean, I just assumed
these were all Westerns.
Oh, some of 'em
got horses in 'em.
Personally, I prefer...
a raunchy bodice-ripper.
A good romp in the barouche.
I don't even know
what that means.
Classic erotica.
Your Lady Chatterley's,
Story of O, Candy.
"Banned in Paris."
That's all I needed to hear.
Those Frenchies are les pigs.
Peggy, I had no idea.
Oh, yeah.
I've been alone for a long time.
If I didn't have some release,
I'd be a pretty angry woman.
So, these were just out
the whole time Mike was a kid?
I knew he wouldn't get into 'em.
Books were as safe
as celery in this house.
(whistles)
She got more than 50% off.
I shouldn't be doing this.
It's like watching Ace of
Cakes when I'm on a diet.
That's not right.
Still works.
Hey!
Hey! Where you been all day?
At your mother's,
trying to write.
I thought that was where
fun went to die. (laughs)
Well, now, it's where
I go to write,
because I wrote 15
of the best pages
I have ever written.
Isn't it great?
Yeah!
Because that means you're gonna
be done soon, right?
Oh, no, no, no.
These new pages have opened up,
like, a whole new subplot.
I think I'm on to a trilogy.
I can't hold out for a trilogy.
What are you talking about?
Oh, nothing.
I mean, just don't get ahead
of yourself, you know?
Finish the first one,
then take a little break.
Maybe, like, a year or two.
You know, just whatever it takes
to recharge the engine.
I don't know. I'm just so happy
to be writing again.
What do you say
we celebrate all my hard work
by going upstairs
and making up for last night?
Right now?
Mm-hmm.
Molly, a guy likes
a little foreplay.
Okay.
I'll go up ahead of you.
You can do that grabby thing.
Come on. You do
that grabby thing.
I love that.
No.
Look, I can't just turn
it on like that, okay?
Yeah, you can.
Come on. I'm starting
to take this personally.
Oh, God. Are you not attracted
to me anymore?
Oh, no. Of course I am.
You're beautiful, you're sexy,
you got the cutest
little dimples, but
I can't.
You know what?
I got enough things
destroying my confidence.
I don't need you
to be one of 'em.
Molly, wait. I'm doing this
to help you.
How is this helping me?
Okay, well...
How can I put this?
You're like a boxer.
Because I want
to punch you in the face?
No. Because writing
is like fighting.
You got to stay focused.
And when we have sex, well,
it... it saps your strength.
What?!
Why do you think
you got so much writing done
in Iowa?
Because I wasn't there
to tempt you.
So, you put all your pent-up
desires onto the page.
Where did you get
such a dopey idea?
Carl.
Carl. Yeah. Really?!
Well, look,
I don't like that he's right,
either, but now we have proof.
15 pages of people doing
all sorts of nasty things
that we didn't get
to do last night.
You're listening to Carl.
I just... I need you
to hear that.
Let... let that sink in!
Well, the man's been
wrong his entire life.
You got to figure he's due.
No!
No, you don't. No, you don't,
and especially not
when it's about us.
Okay? Our love is strong
and healthy,
and it has nothing
to do with my work.
What we have is special,
and we're not gonna let some
stupid superstition ruin that.
You're right.
Carl's an idiot.
Get upstairs.
(giggling)
I'm getting close.
Son of a bitch!
(cheering, whistle blows on TV,
door closes)
MAN (on TV): Incomplete.
(indistinct shouting on TV)
Aw, no!
God,
I knew I should have
held back last night.
That second one was just greedy.
Well, we don't know that
what we did last night
is responsible
for what I didn't do today.
Oh, don't be naive.
Face the facts! We run too hot,
and that's no good!
Well, what are we gonna do?
What can we do?
You got to finish this book!
Well, I'm not picking
the book over us.
Yes, you are.
'Cause you have a husband
that believes in you,
and more importantly,
wants the money.
Ah! So do I.
Is that bad?
No. I've been without sex,
and I've been without money.
Right now, I choose money.
Oh.
That's why we're
so good together!
Okay, okay, okay.
From now on,
until you finish that book,
this house is officially
a sex-free zone.
Okay. What about the rewrite?
We will cross that cold and
lonely bridge when we get to it.
I love you!
I love you, too.
(grunts)
Hey, how's it going today?
It's amazing.
Since we stopped having sex,
this thing writes itself.
That's great, honey.
Hey, can I read you something?
I'm not sure if it works or not.
Sure.
Okay.
(sighs)
"Slowly, she stepped
from the bath,
"knowing his eye was pressed
greedily at the keyhole.
"She placed one leg on the tub,
flesh glistening.
"A bead of water wove its way
to the place he had only dreamed
of touching."
Yeah, that works!