Wilfred (2011–2014): Season 3, Episode 7 - Intuition - full transcript
Wilfred leads Ryan on an insomnia-fueled, crime-fighting caper.
- Hey. Sleep any better last night?
- Not really.
I ended up watching a Scooby-Doo
marathon on Cartoon Network.
Well, did the doorbell wake you up?
I didn't hear it. Who was it?
He didn't say, but he's waiting
for you in your office.
Can I help you?
Dad.
So, this is
what your life has come to.
Quite a... place you've made
down here for yourself.
What are you doing here?
I've tried to give you your space,
but your behavior has become
too erratic to ignore.
Visiting a brothel
with your infant nephew.
Taking your mentally unstable
mother on a reckless road trip.
Kristen had no business
telling you about that.
I don't need to depend on
your sister to keep tabs on you.
She doesn't even know
your darkest secrets.
But I do.
Simulating sex with a stuffed giraffe
in front of an eight-year-old boy.
Defecating in your neighbor's boots.
- How do you know about...
- Your suicide attempt.
Wilfred.
What about Wilfred?
It's just a dog.
He can't talk to you.
I know that.
It's time to get honest, Ryan.
I-I think you should leave.
Let me help you.
I don't need anything from you.
I'm not the bad guy, Ryan.
(gasps)
(exhales)
ANNE:
Hey. Sleep any better last night?
Um... not really.
I'm barely sleeping at all,
but being awake is better than
the dreams I've been having.
That's too bad.
You're distracting my subject, Ryan.
Sorry.
Oh, I don't mind him in here.
Although it is weird how
dogs like to just sit there
and watch you shit.
I couldn't shake the feeling
that I'd actually just seen my dad.
It was creepy how real it felt.
I had a dream like that once.
I had a dream that the nation rose up
to live out its true creed,
that in the state of Alabama
little black boys and girls
were able to hold hands
with little white boys and girls
and walk together
as brother and sister.
It was creepy how real it felt.
Well... whatever.
I don't know why I'm dwelling
on it... it was only a dream.
Dreams are meaningful, Ryan.
Have you ever felt
like part of your mind
is trying to tell you something?
No. What's that like?
It's like an intuition,
like a cry for help
from your subconscious.
I don't need help; I need sleep.
What you need is
to listen to your gut.
And speaking of guts,
check out this photo of Anne.
It takes guts to look
at your own wipe like that.
Oh, God.
Why are dogs so fascinated
by watching people shit?
Because we're students, Ryan.
Students of human nature.
A person's fecal expulsion technique
can teach you a lot about them.
Like what?
Well, for example, look at Jenna.
Legs crossed, hands folded,
refined turd- pinching posture.
She's classy.
And not just classy
but a long list of synonyms
that also mean classy.
WOMAN:
You're gonna make my bush look terrible.
MAN:
There's not a damn thing wrong
with my eyes, Margot!
Yeah, well, the state
of California disagrees!
Trouble in paradise.
Could've told you that.
She and Gene have been
having serious problems.
Oh, God.
- Th-That's Margot. How did you...?
- Look at her, Ryan.
See the pain in her face?
That's the strain of marital discord
poisoning her peace of mind.
Or she's just taking a shit.
Beans.
Beans. J-Beans.
J-Bizzle.
Beazy!
Aw, h-he can't hear me.
He must have his earbuds in.
Hey, Jellybeans.
Aw, cute bandana.
Yeah, it's really working.
Uh-oh. There he goes.
Look at him. Impeccable
form of the back arch.
Slightly trembling knees.
Pinch-point sharp as a dagger.
He's perfect and he knows it.
As a doctor,
ethically and legally I'm not
allowed to give these to you.
So... just think of me as a sister
with easy access
to really good drugs.
Thank you. You're a lifesaver.
Just promise me that these
will be your last resort.
Try getting up
and taking a walk first.
I promise.
You know, you need to figure out
the cause of your insomnia, Ryan.
In the absence of jet lag,
too much caffeine? Drug use?
Okay, well,
then that just leaves stress.
Well, I have been
having dreams about Dad.
Mmm.
Weird dreams.
- Sex dreams?
- What?
- No.
- Don't bite my head off.
I'm just trying to help.
Well, you know, maybe it's time
you two talked.
- You may feel less stressed.
- I have nothing to say to him.
- Ryan...
- You know what?
I-I'm too exhausted to be having
this conversation right now.
Come on, Wilfred. Let's go.
Well, you should come over
for Sunday brunch,
bring some champagne.
We'll just hang out, drink mimosas.
I promise not to talk about Dad.
Okay.
Thanks again.
I hope these work.
Oh, they will.
One of those and I'm out for eight hours.
Doesn't matter
how loud the baby cries.
(cap pops)
(crickets chirping)
Do you smell it, too, Ryan?
Smell what?
The stench of death.
(quietly):
It's over here.
No, I don't sm...
Whoa. I do smell something.
(sniffing)
That's disgusting.
It's a... a hot dog from 7-Eleven.
It probably fell out
of Gene's trash can.
The death smell
isn't coming from that.
(whispering):
It's coming from that.
WILFRED (panting):
Ryan! Ryan!
Ryan.
You have got to see this.
Let me guess.
Mrs. Patel took a shit?
No! Well, yeah.
It was long and painful.
It was one of those shits
that had, like, a bird beak.
But that's not it.
Take a look at this.
It's a toilet.
An empty toilet.
Margot missed her 8:45 a.m. shit.
She goes at 8:45 every morning
so she's done in time
for the 9:00 reruns
of A Man Called Hawk.
- Maybe she went earlier.
- You don't get it.
Something's happened to Margot.
Now look at this.
So?
So, look at him.
He's closing the curtains.
He's hiding something.
Nice try.
What does that mean?
I know you, Wilfred. This is...
some kind of elaborate mind game
to... I don't know...
get a new squeak toy.
Look, I-I don't know
what you're up to,
but I'm too tired to care.
Look at the facts, Ryan.
Gene and his wife are having
marital problems.
Gene buries something
in the middle of the night.
The next morning Margot is missing.
Do the math.
It all adds up...
to murder.
Yeah. That's much more likely
than an old guy doing
a little late night gardening
'cause he couldn't sleep.
Look, I have to get some
champagne for Kristen's brunch.
I always listen to my gut, Ryan.
My gut never lies and right now my gut
is telling me murder.
Okay, I went
a little bit big on that,
but the point is: murder.
(exhales)
Ryan, hey, thanks for coming.
- You didn't bring Wilfred, did you?
- No, I-I thought...
Great. Come on in.
- Let's get this over with.
- Jenna?
Uncle Larry?
What are you doing here?
Wha... What is this?
What-What's going on?
Ryan, um, we're all here
because we love you.
I'll go first.
Is this an intervention?
Ryan, you haven't
been yourself lately.
You've been avoiding me.
I can't believe this shit.
Look, I-I'm just tired, okay?
I haven't been sleeping well.
It's more serious than that.
The way you've been
abusing marijuana,
the bizarre attachment
you have to Wilfred.
Dad thinks that when you stopped
working for him...
Dad?!
Wa-Was this his idea?
Yes, Ryan. I asked everyone to come.
I only did it because
I care about you.
Since when?
I've always had your
best interests at heart.
- This is for your own good.
- Bullshit.
I've arranged for you
to get the help you need.
Dave will make sure
you get there safely.
I'm not going anywhere with him.
- You need help!
- No! I don't need anything from you!
Oh, Ryan,
I'm not the bad guy!
(gasping)
You're gonna want to see this.
I was in Gene's front yard,
going totally
ballistic on his azaleas
for no reason whatsoever,
which I often do,
and he chases me away.
Now why do you suppose he did that?
Because he likes his azaleas?
Open your eyes, Ryan.
He doesn't want me
digging up his wife.
Give it up, Wilfred.
I know you're just stringing me along
because you want to get something.
Is this a dream?
It's Gene!
(grunting)
What the hell?
Wilfred, for the last time,
Gene didn't kill...
Is that Margot's housecoat?
Covered in blood.
(in cartoony voice):
Murder.
Shit. I went too cartoony
with it that time.
I totally overcorrected.
Gene's panicked.
He's moving the body.
We've got to follow him, Ryan.
It's too late.
We'll never catch up.
Nah, we'll definitely catch up.
WILFRED:
Why did you do it, Gene?
Where are you going?
And why has your blinker been
on for the past ten miles?
Just turn left already. Jesus.
I can't believe it.
Gene actually killed his wife.
I told you.
My gut never lies.
You're a regular Scooby-Doo.
(groans)
What the hell?!
You called me the S-word.
That's the most racist
character ever created.
"Ruh-roh!"
Wh-Who talks like that?
And Scooby's constant need
for Scooby Snacks.
Like all dogs think about is food?
It's a goddamn minstrel show!
- Okay, I'm sorry.
- And in the end,
every villain gets unmasked
and gives a detailed confession
of his whole plan.
Like Scoob couldn't have
figured it out himself
'cause he's such a "ridiot."
And don't even get me started
on Scooby-Dum.
I'll lose my shit.
Geez. I'm sorry I brought it up.
So you should be.
It's offensive.
He's stopping.
Cut the engine.
Cut the engine.
(whispering):
What's he doing?
What's he gonna get in the trunk?
This is some freaky shit, man.
There she is.
(bird hooting)
Oh, my God.
Holy shit.
No body, no murder.
Oh.
Now do you believe me?
Wait. Wilfred! Goddamn it.
Wilfred! Wilfred!
What are you doing?
Oh, no! Wilfred!
Wilfred!
Oh, no.
Wilfred!
(Ryan panting)
What? I thought you had drowned.
Nah. Just trying
to save the evidence,
but I couldn't find it.
Water felt good, though.
(bird hooting)
Um...
I'm calling the cops on Gene.
Listen, this was my bust.
Let me make the call.
I'll do the talking.
I still can't believe
that sweet old man is...
- Standing on your front porch?
- What?
Hello, Ryan.
Hey, Gene.
H-How's it going?
Not too good, Ryan.
Stay cool.
My gut tells me
he doesn't know anything.
I know you followed me.
He's bluffing.
Gene, you-you need
to turn yourself in.
Can't you just
give me another chance?
It was an accident.
- You're a murderer.
- I know, but
what's done is done.
Can't we just pretend
it never happened?
What would Margot say to that?
Gene!
What the hell are you doing out here?
Get your wrinkly ass back to bed.
Hi, Ryan.
Hi, Margot.
Margot can't know about this.
She can't?
I failed my vision test,
and the DMV took my license away.
If Margot finds out
I was driving, she'll kill me.
See, I needed some bug spray
for my azaleas.
I was only gonna drive
there and back.
And then this-this dog ran out of
nowhere...
(Gene cries)
You hit a dog.
Poor thing.
I wrapped it in my, in
my wife's housecoat.
I tried to give him a decent
burial in my backyard,
but then Wilfred started
scratching at the fence,
so I had to dump the body.
I'll never drive again, I promise.
Please don't tell Margot, hmm?
Yeah. Sure.
Thanks, Ryan.
I appreciate it.
He's bluffing.
I should have taken
these two days ago.
(bubbling)
Those are probably sugar pills.
What are you talking about?
The last time Kristen gave you
meds, they were placebos,
so why would she give you
the real thing this time?
Yeah, but I think she trusts me now.
Well, listen to your gut, I guess.
(bubbling)
What about your gut?
You say it's always right, but
Gene killed a dog, not his wife.
Yeah. I guess
we were wrong about that.
You were wrong.
My gut was telling me
you were up to something.
Ryan, for the last time...
A dog from the neighborhood
was killed.
How could you not know that?
I've been busy.
Maybe.
Or maybe it was a
dog you didn't like.
It's a really nice day.
I-I think I'm gonna go for a walk.
You did know!
It was Jellybeans.
What? You're really
reaching now, mate.
Oh, yeah? Then where
did you get his bandana?
Okay! You got me!
I took it off Beans' body
when I dove into the river.
You set up Gene to kill Jellybeans!
Yes! It's true!
I was over at Gene's when
I heard him and his wife
arguing about his eyesight.
When he decided to ignore his wife
and drive to get bug spray,
I knew exactly what to do.
I knew Jellybeans had a weakness
for bouncing tennis balls,
so I tossed one in
front of Gene's car.
He never knew what hit him.
It was the perfect plan.
And I would have gotten
away with it, too,
if it weren't for you meddling kid!
You killed Jellybeans
for his bandana.
You're a monster.
I did it because of you, Ryan.
You drove me to it.
The way you went on and
on about that bandana!
- I said it was cute.
- Exactly.
What was I supposed to do...
not kill him for his bandana?
(phone buzzing)
"Don't forget the champagne."
Shit. Kristen's brunch.
I totally forgot.
I don't have time to deal with this.
Oh, God, I took those sleeping pills.
That's okay. The mimosa will
take the edge off. Let's go.
You're not invited.
I knew you were up to something.
You're missing the point,
Ryan, as usual.
Oh, really?
What's the point?
Your gut was right about me,
but you ignored it.
You keep ignoring it.
It's reaching out to you
from your subconscious,
through your dreams.
You should listen to it.
There's nothing to listen to.
MAN:
Ryan?
It's good to see you.
What are you doing here?
Grocery shopping.
Maria has the weekend off.
I needed a few things.
This is a dream.
Are you okay?
Go away.
Now, come on, Ryan.
I think this has gone
on long enough. Oh!
Jesus, Ryan, what is wrong with you?
- It's okay. He's my son.
- I'm fine!
None of this is real.
You're not real.
- You need help.
- I don't need help!
You're not real.
None of this is real!
Ryan! Ryan!
- Not really.
I ended up watching a Scooby-Doo
marathon on Cartoon Network.
Well, did the doorbell wake you up?
I didn't hear it. Who was it?
He didn't say, but he's waiting
for you in your office.
Can I help you?
Dad.
So, this is
what your life has come to.
Quite a... place you've made
down here for yourself.
What are you doing here?
I've tried to give you your space,
but your behavior has become
too erratic to ignore.
Visiting a brothel
with your infant nephew.
Taking your mentally unstable
mother on a reckless road trip.
Kristen had no business
telling you about that.
I don't need to depend on
your sister to keep tabs on you.
She doesn't even know
your darkest secrets.
But I do.
Simulating sex with a stuffed giraffe
in front of an eight-year-old boy.
Defecating in your neighbor's boots.
- How do you know about...
- Your suicide attempt.
Wilfred.
What about Wilfred?
It's just a dog.
He can't talk to you.
I know that.
It's time to get honest, Ryan.
I-I think you should leave.
Let me help you.
I don't need anything from you.
I'm not the bad guy, Ryan.
(gasps)
(exhales)
ANNE:
Hey. Sleep any better last night?
Um... not really.
I'm barely sleeping at all,
but being awake is better than
the dreams I've been having.
That's too bad.
You're distracting my subject, Ryan.
Sorry.
Oh, I don't mind him in here.
Although it is weird how
dogs like to just sit there
and watch you shit.
I couldn't shake the feeling
that I'd actually just seen my dad.
It was creepy how real it felt.
I had a dream like that once.
I had a dream that the nation rose up
to live out its true creed,
that in the state of Alabama
little black boys and girls
were able to hold hands
with little white boys and girls
and walk together
as brother and sister.
It was creepy how real it felt.
Well... whatever.
I don't know why I'm dwelling
on it... it was only a dream.
Dreams are meaningful, Ryan.
Have you ever felt
like part of your mind
is trying to tell you something?
No. What's that like?
It's like an intuition,
like a cry for help
from your subconscious.
I don't need help; I need sleep.
What you need is
to listen to your gut.
And speaking of guts,
check out this photo of Anne.
It takes guts to look
at your own wipe like that.
Oh, God.
Why are dogs so fascinated
by watching people shit?
Because we're students, Ryan.
Students of human nature.
A person's fecal expulsion technique
can teach you a lot about them.
Like what?
Well, for example, look at Jenna.
Legs crossed, hands folded,
refined turd- pinching posture.
She's classy.
And not just classy
but a long list of synonyms
that also mean classy.
WOMAN:
You're gonna make my bush look terrible.
MAN:
There's not a damn thing wrong
with my eyes, Margot!
Yeah, well, the state
of California disagrees!
Trouble in paradise.
Could've told you that.
She and Gene have been
having serious problems.
Oh, God.
- Th-That's Margot. How did you...?
- Look at her, Ryan.
See the pain in her face?
That's the strain of marital discord
poisoning her peace of mind.
Or she's just taking a shit.
Beans.
Beans. J-Beans.
J-Bizzle.
Beazy!
Aw, h-he can't hear me.
He must have his earbuds in.
Hey, Jellybeans.
Aw, cute bandana.
Yeah, it's really working.
Uh-oh. There he goes.
Look at him. Impeccable
form of the back arch.
Slightly trembling knees.
Pinch-point sharp as a dagger.
He's perfect and he knows it.
As a doctor,
ethically and legally I'm not
allowed to give these to you.
So... just think of me as a sister
with easy access
to really good drugs.
Thank you. You're a lifesaver.
Just promise me that these
will be your last resort.
Try getting up
and taking a walk first.
I promise.
You know, you need to figure out
the cause of your insomnia, Ryan.
In the absence of jet lag,
too much caffeine? Drug use?
Okay, well,
then that just leaves stress.
Well, I have been
having dreams about Dad.
Mmm.
Weird dreams.
- Sex dreams?
- What?
- No.
- Don't bite my head off.
I'm just trying to help.
Well, you know, maybe it's time
you two talked.
- You may feel less stressed.
- I have nothing to say to him.
- Ryan...
- You know what?
I-I'm too exhausted to be having
this conversation right now.
Come on, Wilfred. Let's go.
Well, you should come over
for Sunday brunch,
bring some champagne.
We'll just hang out, drink mimosas.
I promise not to talk about Dad.
Okay.
Thanks again.
I hope these work.
Oh, they will.
One of those and I'm out for eight hours.
Doesn't matter
how loud the baby cries.
(cap pops)
(crickets chirping)
Do you smell it, too, Ryan?
Smell what?
The stench of death.
(quietly):
It's over here.
No, I don't sm...
Whoa. I do smell something.
(sniffing)
That's disgusting.
It's a... a hot dog from 7-Eleven.
It probably fell out
of Gene's trash can.
The death smell
isn't coming from that.
(whispering):
It's coming from that.
WILFRED (panting):
Ryan! Ryan!
Ryan.
You have got to see this.
Let me guess.
Mrs. Patel took a shit?
No! Well, yeah.
It was long and painful.
It was one of those shits
that had, like, a bird beak.
But that's not it.
Take a look at this.
It's a toilet.
An empty toilet.
Margot missed her 8:45 a.m. shit.
She goes at 8:45 every morning
so she's done in time
for the 9:00 reruns
of A Man Called Hawk.
- Maybe she went earlier.
- You don't get it.
Something's happened to Margot.
Now look at this.
So?
So, look at him.
He's closing the curtains.
He's hiding something.
Nice try.
What does that mean?
I know you, Wilfred. This is...
some kind of elaborate mind game
to... I don't know...
get a new squeak toy.
Look, I-I don't know
what you're up to,
but I'm too tired to care.
Look at the facts, Ryan.
Gene and his wife are having
marital problems.
Gene buries something
in the middle of the night.
The next morning Margot is missing.
Do the math.
It all adds up...
to murder.
Yeah. That's much more likely
than an old guy doing
a little late night gardening
'cause he couldn't sleep.
Look, I have to get some
champagne for Kristen's brunch.
I always listen to my gut, Ryan.
My gut never lies and right now my gut
is telling me murder.
Okay, I went
a little bit big on that,
but the point is: murder.
(exhales)
Ryan, hey, thanks for coming.
- You didn't bring Wilfred, did you?
- No, I-I thought...
Great. Come on in.
- Let's get this over with.
- Jenna?
Uncle Larry?
What are you doing here?
Wha... What is this?
What-What's going on?
Ryan, um, we're all here
because we love you.
I'll go first.
Is this an intervention?
Ryan, you haven't
been yourself lately.
You've been avoiding me.
I can't believe this shit.
Look, I-I'm just tired, okay?
I haven't been sleeping well.
It's more serious than that.
The way you've been
abusing marijuana,
the bizarre attachment
you have to Wilfred.
Dad thinks that when you stopped
working for him...
Dad?!
Wa-Was this his idea?
Yes, Ryan. I asked everyone to come.
I only did it because
I care about you.
Since when?
I've always had your
best interests at heart.
- This is for your own good.
- Bullshit.
I've arranged for you
to get the help you need.
Dave will make sure
you get there safely.
I'm not going anywhere with him.
- You need help!
- No! I don't need anything from you!
Oh, Ryan,
I'm not the bad guy!
(gasping)
You're gonna want to see this.
I was in Gene's front yard,
going totally
ballistic on his azaleas
for no reason whatsoever,
which I often do,
and he chases me away.
Now why do you suppose he did that?
Because he likes his azaleas?
Open your eyes, Ryan.
He doesn't want me
digging up his wife.
Give it up, Wilfred.
I know you're just stringing me along
because you want to get something.
Is this a dream?
It's Gene!
(grunting)
What the hell?
Wilfred, for the last time,
Gene didn't kill...
Is that Margot's housecoat?
Covered in blood.
(in cartoony voice):
Murder.
Shit. I went too cartoony
with it that time.
I totally overcorrected.
Gene's panicked.
He's moving the body.
We've got to follow him, Ryan.
It's too late.
We'll never catch up.
Nah, we'll definitely catch up.
WILFRED:
Why did you do it, Gene?
Where are you going?
And why has your blinker been
on for the past ten miles?
Just turn left already. Jesus.
I can't believe it.
Gene actually killed his wife.
I told you.
My gut never lies.
You're a regular Scooby-Doo.
(groans)
What the hell?!
You called me the S-word.
That's the most racist
character ever created.
"Ruh-roh!"
Wh-Who talks like that?
And Scooby's constant need
for Scooby Snacks.
Like all dogs think about is food?
It's a goddamn minstrel show!
- Okay, I'm sorry.
- And in the end,
every villain gets unmasked
and gives a detailed confession
of his whole plan.
Like Scoob couldn't have
figured it out himself
'cause he's such a "ridiot."
And don't even get me started
on Scooby-Dum.
I'll lose my shit.
Geez. I'm sorry I brought it up.
So you should be.
It's offensive.
He's stopping.
Cut the engine.
Cut the engine.
(whispering):
What's he doing?
What's he gonna get in the trunk?
This is some freaky shit, man.
There she is.
(bird hooting)
Oh, my God.
Holy shit.
No body, no murder.
Oh.
Now do you believe me?
Wait. Wilfred! Goddamn it.
Wilfred! Wilfred!
What are you doing?
Oh, no! Wilfred!
Wilfred!
Oh, no.
Wilfred!
(Ryan panting)
What? I thought you had drowned.
Nah. Just trying
to save the evidence,
but I couldn't find it.
Water felt good, though.
(bird hooting)
Um...
I'm calling the cops on Gene.
Listen, this was my bust.
Let me make the call.
I'll do the talking.
I still can't believe
that sweet old man is...
- Standing on your front porch?
- What?
Hello, Ryan.
Hey, Gene.
H-How's it going?
Not too good, Ryan.
Stay cool.
My gut tells me
he doesn't know anything.
I know you followed me.
He's bluffing.
Gene, you-you need
to turn yourself in.
Can't you just
give me another chance?
It was an accident.
- You're a murderer.
- I know, but
what's done is done.
Can't we just pretend
it never happened?
What would Margot say to that?
Gene!
What the hell are you doing out here?
Get your wrinkly ass back to bed.
Hi, Ryan.
Hi, Margot.
Margot can't know about this.
She can't?
I failed my vision test,
and the DMV took my license away.
If Margot finds out
I was driving, she'll kill me.
See, I needed some bug spray
for my azaleas.
I was only gonna drive
there and back.
And then this-this dog ran out of
nowhere...
(Gene cries)
You hit a dog.
Poor thing.
I wrapped it in my, in
my wife's housecoat.
I tried to give him a decent
burial in my backyard,
but then Wilfred started
scratching at the fence,
so I had to dump the body.
I'll never drive again, I promise.
Please don't tell Margot, hmm?
Yeah. Sure.
Thanks, Ryan.
I appreciate it.
He's bluffing.
I should have taken
these two days ago.
(bubbling)
Those are probably sugar pills.
What are you talking about?
The last time Kristen gave you
meds, they were placebos,
so why would she give you
the real thing this time?
Yeah, but I think she trusts me now.
Well, listen to your gut, I guess.
(bubbling)
What about your gut?
You say it's always right, but
Gene killed a dog, not his wife.
Yeah. I guess
we were wrong about that.
You were wrong.
My gut was telling me
you were up to something.
Ryan, for the last time...
A dog from the neighborhood
was killed.
How could you not know that?
I've been busy.
Maybe.
Or maybe it was a
dog you didn't like.
It's a really nice day.
I-I think I'm gonna go for a walk.
You did know!
It was Jellybeans.
What? You're really
reaching now, mate.
Oh, yeah? Then where
did you get his bandana?
Okay! You got me!
I took it off Beans' body
when I dove into the river.
You set up Gene to kill Jellybeans!
Yes! It's true!
I was over at Gene's when
I heard him and his wife
arguing about his eyesight.
When he decided to ignore his wife
and drive to get bug spray,
I knew exactly what to do.
I knew Jellybeans had a weakness
for bouncing tennis balls,
so I tossed one in
front of Gene's car.
He never knew what hit him.
It was the perfect plan.
And I would have gotten
away with it, too,
if it weren't for you meddling kid!
You killed Jellybeans
for his bandana.
You're a monster.
I did it because of you, Ryan.
You drove me to it.
The way you went on and
on about that bandana!
- I said it was cute.
- Exactly.
What was I supposed to do...
not kill him for his bandana?
(phone buzzing)
"Don't forget the champagne."
Shit. Kristen's brunch.
I totally forgot.
I don't have time to deal with this.
Oh, God, I took those sleeping pills.
That's okay. The mimosa will
take the edge off. Let's go.
You're not invited.
I knew you were up to something.
You're missing the point,
Ryan, as usual.
Oh, really?
What's the point?
Your gut was right about me,
but you ignored it.
You keep ignoring it.
It's reaching out to you
from your subconscious,
through your dreams.
You should listen to it.
There's nothing to listen to.
MAN:
Ryan?
It's good to see you.
What are you doing here?
Grocery shopping.
Maria has the weekend off.
I needed a few things.
This is a dream.
Are you okay?
Go away.
Now, come on, Ryan.
I think this has gone
on long enough. Oh!
Jesus, Ryan, what is wrong with you?
- It's okay. He's my son.
- I'm fine!
None of this is real.
You're not real.
- You need help.
- I don't need help!
You're not real.
None of this is real!
Ryan! Ryan!