Willard
Willard.
There are rats in the basement.
Ow!
Willard...
what are you doing?
I'm going to bed.
It's late.
Yes. I'm going to bed.
Good night, mom.
What were you doing down there?
You, uh, said there were rats.
Well, did you see them?
Well...there aren't any rats.
There are.
All our neighbors moving away...
and all these new people
remodelling the houses.
They're stirring up rats.
Well...have you been
to the basement?
No. You know I can't.
I know they're there.
I can smell them.
All my life I could smell mice.
Smell...mice?
And hear them.
Don't you hear them down there?
It's--it's just the wind.
There aren't any rats.
Come in here. Hmm?
Come in here.
I'm sorry I've been
such a bad mother to you.
Well, you've--you've been a...
Well, you are...
a wonderful mother.
It's my fault
your life was wasted.
Willard.
What an awful name--Willard.
Maybe if you had
a stronger name...
that Frank Martin
wouldn't push you around...
or maybe
you'd have found a girlfriend...
if you had
a more handsome name--
Mark or Kyle or...
Clark.
Willard, from now on,
your name's Clark.
Good night, Clark.
Pardon me.
That you?
Sorry.
They told me to sit here.
Willard, he wants to see you.
Oh. Well, um...
Ms. Leach,
it seems that someone...
this girl,
is sitting at my desk.
Maybe that's why
he wants to see you.
OK.
Hey. Pay attention.
Yeah?
Who's that at your desk
out there, Willard?
I--I don't know her.
Sit.
Who did you say that was at
your desk out there, Willard?
I--l--I don't know her.
Well, you should know, because
it's your fault she's there.
You've fallen
at least a week behind...
processing the purchase orders.
You know,
when that happens, Willard...
everything comes
to a standstill--
my salespeople
up on the floor...
shipping, receiving, inventory.
Everybody's standing around...
with their thumbs
up their asses...
because you have allowed
the purchase orders...
to bottleneck at your desk.
Your father built this company,
Willard.
Hell, your family name
is still out there...
on the side of the building--
"Martin Stiles Manufacturing."
Ah, hell,
it just seems to me like...
that alone
would make you take...
a little more pride
in your work.
Well, l...
Oh, my mother is sick.
I see.
So, it's your mother's fault
that you've fallen behind?
Willard, I'm an old friend
of the family.
Hell, I've known your mother
since before you were born.
She's a fine lady, and she
deserves to be kept comfortable.
Your dad
was like a father to me.
And I promised him
that I would always...
Look after
you and your mother...
and as long as she was alive,
you'd have a job right here.
And in keeping
with that promise...
I must insist that you find...
a good rest-care facility
for mom.
We can't afford that.
But, hell, I guess
you could always sell the house.
Here's an idea--I'd tear it
down and build apartments on it.
I'm sorry, Mr. Martin.
I'll--I'll--I'll...
I'll catch up. I'll stay late.
Oh, yeah. You would love that,
wouldn't you, Willard?
Suck up on more overtime than
it even costs me for a temp.
You'll catch up, all right,
a**hole...
and you'll catch up
on your own damn time!
There's one thing that you will
never understand, Willard--
business is a rat race.
Promise or no promise,
I will not allow myself...
to be devoured by all of those
other rats because of you!
Clark!
What is it? What is it?
Shh, shh, shh.
It's OK. It's OK.
It's OK. It's OK.
Here we go.
What was all that noise?
Rats?
No.
A bird got stuck in the house
somehow, and I let it out.
It's all right now,
so go back to bed.
What are you doing in there?
I'm going potty.
You've been in there
a long time.
I'm not feeling well, mom.
Is it loose or hard?
I'm OK. I'm OK.
So just--just go to bed.
Let me see.
I'm still your mother.
Clark! Clark!
You should be in bed.
You're feverish.
I get afraid, Clark.
Your father was in
that bathroom late that night.
Yes, I know. I'm never going
to do anything like that.
What is that on your hand?
It's--it's soap.
It's cooking oil.
Oh, Willard,
you're too old for that.
When will you
find yourself a girl?
Well, other than
getting caught in the trap...
you seem pretty--pretty smart.
You should be called...
Socrates.
What do you think?
Yeah? All right. Socrates.
Whoa. Like it in here? Oh.
Where are you going?
Bye, Socrates.
Say hello to your family.
You're reunited with
your brother and sister and mom.
Look. Look, everybody.
Food. Food for everybody.
There you go. Very good.
Bye.
Socrates...
I will never let anyone
harm you ever.
I promise.
I promise.
I promise.
Martin, I have to cover
your damn car every day.
"Cover my car. Cover my car."
Ugh!
Do you like my new S-55,
Willard?
My new car. My new Mercedes.
I saw you drooling over it.
Oh.
Uh, yes, Mr. Martin. It's...
Do you know
why I have that car?
I'm driving that 350-horsepower,
V-8 masterpiece...
for you
and your fellow employees.
You see, buyers
feel a sense of security...
when they can see proof...
that they're dealing
with a successful man.
So, when I whip into that
parking lot behind the wheel...
of my brand-new
Mercedes AMG-class...
they'll buy from us over
the slob in the Jaguar S-type.
Do you know why I can afford
to plunk down 90,000 bucks...
for that little edge
over the competition, Willard?
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"Willard" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/willard_23496>.
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