Dying Young Page #2

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- Jim's a prick.

- How's his prick, then?

Mike, give us two beers.

- OK, so what's he look like?

- Upper classy. Nob Hill.

- Mm. College snot.

- Kinda get the feeling that he was, though.

- He was what, Hills?

- Cute.

- Well, go ahead, girl. You gonna take it?

- I don't know. The place isn't bad.

Fancy antiques. I have my own bathroom.

- How much a week?

- 400 big ones.

F*** me! Not you.

Grab it. Your mom would go crazy. You could

buy the Cadillac she's always talkin' about.

You could buy the outfit of the week... What?

Just be cool, girl. Don't worry about it.

Hey, baby, you need a walk home?

- Ah, welcome.

- Thanks.

Let me. That'll be all. Thank you, Malachi.

Sir.

That'll be all, Malachi.

Wait.

You coming in this room

is not part of the deal.

I never thought it was.

Pardon me.

Ah, yes.

- How you doin'?

- How are you?

Uh, this is Moamar.

Moamar Gadaffi. He drives me

every Monday morning to the, uh, chemo.

- Hilary O'Connell.

- My honour.

- O'Neil.

- O'Neil.

I'm sorry.

Peter Schmidt, 1886.

Barth & Kenitzer, 1892.

Both of them stood up to the earthquake.

The incomparable Hiss & Weeks, 1910.

Oh, Ronald McDonald, 1986.

You know, the chemicals they inject me with,

actually they're poison.

Poison?

Hiss & Weeks again, 1911.

Yes, the idea is to kill the cancer and not me.

- So, anyway, there might be some reaction.

- What kind of...?

Oh, sweating.

Shaking and vomiting.

Sometimes it makes me scream.

Ah, Mercy Hospital.

- Miss O'Neil? You want me to stay?

- I don't know. No.

The doctor will call tomorrow.

OK, OK.

No, no, no.

- How's that?

- Thank you. Thank you. I'm all right.

Oh!

Too loud!

Too loud!

It's... too loud.

Too loud.

It's OK. It's OK.

Come on, come on.

- Much too loud.

- No, no. I turned it down.

- Much too loud.

- It's OK. I turned it down.

Come on. Let me get you into the bed, OK?

I've got you. I've got you.

I've got...

OK, OK.

The room is humming.

Go to sleep.

Go to sleep.

Sh*t.

Hold it, hold it, hold it.

I don't get it. What do you mean, poison?

I mean poison. I mean,

I thought he was gonna die.

I thought, one more time

and this guy is gonna f***in' die.

Shauna, I need help.

I feel sorry for him, I do.

I don't think anybody comes to see him.

I wish I knew how to care for him,

but I don't. He needs a nurse.

He needs somebody who can...

deal with this sort of thing.

I don't think I can deal with this.

I don't.

I have to tell him tonight.

No.

You've reached the home of Victor Geddes.

Leave a message after the tone.

This is your father.

Are you there?

I know you're there.

I'm calling to find out how

the chemo went. Are you all right?

I understand you didn't hire

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