Mask

Based on the true story|of Rocky Dennis

How about a kiss in the sun?|- How about not a kiss in the sun?

Why not? I'm a romantic.|- Oh, Mr. Romance! Great.

Hey, Mom. - What? - You forgot|what we got to do this morning.

Jesus. Who's that?|- My son. Did I?

The school,|the clinic, the blood line-up.

Oh, sh*t!

Wait. What's going on? - I've got to|do a million things with my kid.

Well, what about us?

I was gonna give her a ride home.

Mom.|- Sorry, sorry.

I just gave her a ride home.

OK, alright.

Hey, Rock.|- Yo, Red.

Are you looking for this one?|- No, I already got two of these.

I told you that wasn't the right one.|- Thanks anyway, Red.

You're trying to find Ruby Walters.|- Rube Walker, card number 1-0-8.

Brooklyn Dodgers, 1955.|- Good year. Seems like yesterday.

You say that about everything, Red.|- Everything does.

I seen you grandstanding for her.|- I protected her. Where were you?

You got the lease?|I got everything else. - Sh*t!

I told you it was Rube Walker...

Shut up! Let's get going, we're late.

What's the matter? Never saw anybody|from the planet Vulcan before?

Yes, uh...|- Never mind. - Wait a minute. Ma'am!

Hi, I'm here to register my son|for the ninth grade.

Well, Mrs... - No Mrs.|I'm Rusty Dennis. Meet my son, Rocky.

Please sit down.

We're running a little bit late,|so could you move it along?

This is a public|junior high school, Miss Dennis.

There are special schools

with wonderful facilities|more appropriate for his needs.

Do you teach algebra,|biology and English here?

Of course.|- Those are his needs.

Perhaps I should speak|to the boy's father.

Perhaps you should speak to the Pope.|He'd be a lot easier to find.

Under the circumstances

for the good of my students|as well as your son,

I'll need additional... - Don't jerk|me around. I'm not in the mood.

I've had a real crappy day so far.

First, we're in the wrong district,|I gotta come here and play pussyfoot.

This is a copy of our lease,|a copy of Rocky's birth certificate,

and this is his last report card.|He was in the top 5% of his class.

I got some additional information.|My lawyer's name is B.D.Higgins.

If you give me any sh*t at all,|he's gonna drag your ass into court.

Don't worry, Mr. Simms.

I look weird|but otherwise I'm real normal.

Everything will be cool.

Thanks a lot. See you next week.

Mom?|- What?

We have a lawyer named B.D. Higgins?|- Yeah, Bull Dozer.

Come on. - So, you're a lawyer, Doze!|- Bullshit rules!

Cranium circumference: 67 cm.

67 centimetres...

Last one, kid.|- Alright. Really?

Mandible:
32 point 5 cm.

Mandible:
32.5- I'll measure you.|- That's good news, Rocky!

Since your last check-up, your jaw|only increased an eighth of an inch.

I'm cured! I can go home now.|It's the water in Azusa.

Picture time! - He knows the routine|better than we do. - It's true!

You look great. - How about my hair?|- You look fine, Rocky.

OK. Shoot!|- How's your mom? - Great.

Stand still.|- Sorry.

Turn around.|- Why don't you fill me in, Doctor.

The patient was first diagnosed

with Craniodiaphyseal dysplasia|at four years of age

when it was discovered that|calcium was depositing in his skull.

My pal, calcium!|- What have we learned about it?

It's extremely rare.|One in 22 about million births.

How was it first described?|- "Lionitis". The look of the lion.

Are you new around here?|- Yes, I am.

Cause?|- It's caused by 2 recessive genes

and happens to normal parents. His|mother had an uneventful pregnancy,

didn't ingest any|chemical substance or tetratogens.

That means|it wasn't my mom or dad's fault.

Hello, Rocky.

Doc Rudinsky!|- Good to see you again.

Our data on this patient, Doctor,|supports your article in...

How are you feeling today, Rocky?|- Pretty good. How are you feeling?

You still have those headaches?|- Yeah. They've been bad lately.

Is your mother still using the|same methods? - What methods?

She talks to me and they go away.|- No medication? - No.

We're ready now. - You can dress.|- See you later, Doc.

Do you have any questions?|- Yeah.

When will you invent one of these,|so a guy's rear-end doesn't hang out?

I'd like to do the follow-up|counseling with the mother, myself.

That's a great idea.|Don't you agree, Doctor? - Oh, yes.

Mrs. Dennis?|- What?

I'm Dr. Vinton. I need to talk to you|about the test results. - Alright.

Hey, Mom. Hey, Babe.|- Why doesn't he wait outside?

What for?|- So we can talk.

It's about the test results. On him.

Oh, him. "Him" has a name.|So if you've got information for him,

you give it to him. - You don't|understand. - You don't understand!

He's got a cheeseburger waiting|out there, so just hurry this along.

Well, as you know,|plastic surgery is not an option

until the skull stops thickening.|And there's no evidence that it will.

The cranium's growing at such a rate,|creating pressure on the spinal cord,

that the prognosis is not good.|We feel that...

life expectancy

is...|- Three to six months.

You're not gonna really give us|that number again, are you?

You know, for 12 years I've been|listening to you guys bullshit.

First you told me he was retarded.|Then that he would be blind and deaf.

Then you told me that he'd never|be able to do what regular kids do.

If I had dug his grave every time|you geniuses said he would die,

I'd be eating|f***ing chop suey in China by now.

Anything else?

Bye.

It's time to get Dozer to give blood.|- Never had before.

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