Dread Page #2

They had to sew her up with frigging twine.

I was 10.

On that day, I vowed to never have kids.

Can we stop?

It turned out there was a worm,

and it had crawled up there

when I was swimming in the lake

by my grandparents' house.

And my pubes,

they started to grow this cheese.

I think we have everything we need.

You know we've had

five classes together. Five.

And this is the first meal we've ever shared.

Well, it's not really a meal.

That's more like a botanical garden.

I'm sorry if I offend you with my roughage,

Mr. Triple Bypass.

- So good.

- I just don't like meat.

Your burger

makes me want to vomit.

Gross. That's lovely.

First meal. Two years.

To be honest, you know, you're probably

one of the people I talk to the most.

Wow. You're such a loser.

What's up?

It's not good enough.

It's a start.

But, "I'm scared of spiders,"

"I'm scared of clowns,"

"I'm scared of Mickey f***ing Mouse. "

Who cares?

Relax.

I don't believe in anything.

What is there to believe in?

Do you set that thing

to tell you when to take a sh*t?

- Give me the f***ing thing.

- No.

...been like ghosts.

Give me the f***ing watch, Stephen.

- I'm not...

- Give me the watch.

- Hey, hey! Wait.

- God. What up, you two? Come on.

You f***ing a**hole.

Stop!

Interview me.

What?

I want to sit.

I grew up in a small town

in upstate New York.

My mom worked at the local supermarket,

and my dad...

And my dad worked at the...

At a meat-packing plant

about 20 miles outside of town.

They'd slaughter cattle there

and supply our markets

with corn-fed organic beef.

And he'd work late.

And by the time he'd get home,

my mom would always be asleep.

I'd lay there on my pillow

and listen to the sound of his boots

walk to my bedroom door.

I don't know if my mother

just pretended not to know

what the f*** was going on

or if she was just too weak.

You don't... You don't need to do this.

But...

What I remember the most about it

was the way...

The way his flesh smelled

when he'd come home from work.

This heavy, metallic smell

that would follow him home from the plant,

like warm blood on the grass,

cold fat in the freezers.

I can hardly stand to look

at a piece of meat now,

let alone think about eating it.

Looks like I'll be taking iron supplements

for the rest of my life, huh?

That's what I'm talking about,

some f***ing, honest-to-God trauma!

Yeah? I showed you mine,

now you show me yours.

Come on, Quaid.

How'd your parents f*** you up?

I just don't want...

Hey. I'm gonna go ahead and stay the night.

I've already missed the last train.

Wake up. Stephen, he's in the house!

Quaid, Quaid, Quaid, what is it?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes