Ideal Home Page #3

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so you can deal with the kid.

No. Don't go, Kate.

No. I have a bleaching

in the morning.

For my teeth.

Everyone is leaving.

This is the worst thing

that's ever happened to me.

Just tell us

what you want,

and someone will make it

for you.

I want Taco Bell.

Let's just go to the kitchen.

Maybe we can...

Don't touch me!

It's all right.

It's okay.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Okay, would you

nut up for second?

Here's what

you're going to do.

You're going to get

the mayor a shot of mescal.

You're going to ask the editor

of El Decor to dance.

I'm going to tell Gustavo

to play some tangos

and get Tino to take

that feral child the Taco Bell.

Then you're going to go

to the front door,

tell everybody to come back

because you got me

a birthday cake,

we're going to sing,

and there's cocaine.

Yes, but I haven't,

and it's not your birthday.

It is your birthday.

Go. Go. Go.

Hey, everyone!

I've got cocaine

and birthday cake!

[dance music playing

over speakers]

[dance music fades]

[]

[Erasmus] Well, this would be

the point where you say,

"Erasmus, it's marvelous!"

It's like staying

at a five-star resort!

I look like

a f***ing a**hole in these.

All right, come on.

Bedtime. Let's go.

Lights on or off?

I don't care.

Hey, hey...

Never say that.

You should always

care passionately

about every single choice

you make in your life.

Good night.

We're locking our doors.

That kid scares

the sh*t out of me.

- Oh, I think he's sweet.

- Really?

Well, people thought

Jeffrey Dahmer was sweet

till he raped them

and ate them.

Ew.

I'm sure it's just

a temporary arrangement.

What if it's not?

Well, would that be

such a bad thing?

My parents were

such drunkaholic messes.

I was 11 years old before

I realized my father's name

wasn't

"that f***ing bastard."

Heh. You told me

that joke before.

I'm so sorry. I'll try

and work on some new material.

Thank you.

They were terrible parents,

and I don't want

to be a terrible parent.

- No one's asking you to be.

- Oh, God.

I feel like I'm going to have

one of my things.

- What things?

- My panic things.

I shouldn't have done blow.

I'm such a douchebag.

- Well, take one of your pills.

- I did.

You know, the editor

of El Decor was dancing

like her

life depended on it.

If she'd gone home early,

the party would've been

a disaster.

We should check in,

make sure everything's okay.

What, with the editor?

Hmm? No, the kid.

Oh, he'll be fast asleep.

We should check in,

make sure

he hasn't stolen anything.

What the hell?

Hey, kid?

What's his name again?

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