Broken Flowers Page #2

is to narrow down the possibilities.

Winston, this is probably

someone playing a joke on me.

If not, then...

whatever.

It seems so unfair-

someone to write a letter like this...

and-and-and not sign it?

Don't you want to know

who is the mother of your son?

My hypothetical son?

No, Winston.

I don't, okay?

Okay.

Then we can just drop it.

We can?

We can, of course. Okay.

Good.

It's dropped.

But then how can you ignore

something like this?

- You need to treat this as a sign.

- What kind of sign?

Of the direction of your life.

Of this present moment.

You need to solve this mystery...

and find out which of your women it was

that you impregnated with your semen

Winston.

What happened to

that groovin' CD I burned for you?

Here it is. Do you mind?

Ah, that's nice.

Ethiopian sounds.

It's good for the heart.

Look, come over tomorrow

for, uh, Sunday brunch,

and, uh, we'll talk a little further

about our investigative plan, huh?

So I'll leave that right there.

Go home

and leave me alone.

Okay, man. I love you too.

I think your father's real name

is Sam Spade.

My father isn't Sam Spade.

No? Think he's Sherlock Holmes?

No.

Well, I know he's one

of those famous detectives.

Mike Hammer!

No, not Mike Hammer.

Oh, I know.

He's that Dolemite guy. Right?

No, not Dolemite.

No?

He's down.

Keep your eyes open.

He may be Dolemite.

No!

Mona,

thank you.

That was so delicious.

You're welcome. Anytime.

Really?

Mm-hmm.

What time's dinner?

You are the most perfect woman

in the world.

Hey, hey, hey.

Let me tell you something.

That's mine.

Come, come, come.

No cigarettes.

That's where you get

your appetite.

Your woman cooks too good.

I'd like to look

at that pink letter again.

Let me see it.

I burned it last night-

microwave.

Yes, little Rita?

Papa, you're smoking again.

No, no, no. This is just herbs.

It's just a little Cheeba. Hmm?

Let me see that.

He's right.

It's just cannabis sativa.

You see?

Just a little indigo, baby.

'Cause Mama says,

"No more smoking tobacco anymore."

Yeah, I know.

I gave it up.

Never!

Never!

No more tobacco. I promise.

Okay.

Come, come, come, come.

Let me see this mysterious pink letter.

Okay. What you have to

do for me is make a list.

A list.

I need the possibilities

of who the mother might be.

You give me a list

of all your girlfriends

from back then,

and then I can plan everything.

Uh, I think I'm going home,

Sherlock.

Just destroy that letter

when you're through with it,

will you?

Work on that list.

Hello, Winston?

What list?

No, haven't even thought about it.

Are you on a cell phone?

Yeah. Is it okay if I run in

and grab that list?

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