The Motel Life

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1

Can you tell me a story, Frank?

Tell me something good.

Make me the hero, or...

maybe I can get the girl.

I got one.

A long time ago...

you and me were fighter

pilots in the war.

"The Flannigan brothers."

We were famous.

One morning, we were heading over

to Germany when we got ambushed.

You and me versus

20 German fighters.

It was a mess. A real dogfight.

It was touch and go

but we were winning,

until a Nazi came out of the fog,

and started firing away at you.

Luckily, I came down and

blew the son of a b*tch up.

"Thanks Tiger-Five"

you said over the radio.

Problem was your plane was hit

and your controls were stuck.

You were heading towards Iceland.

There was nothing you could do.

You disappeared into the clouds.

Frank...

Frank.

Frank.

What?

Where are your clothes?

- Something happened.

- What?

I don't even wanna tell you, Frank.

I don't understand why

this is happening...

What happened?

- Jesus Christ.

- What the f***?

We gotta go.

I can't drive.

I fell deep this time.

Didn't I, Frank?

I don't know.

I don't know what happened.

Polly Flynn got mad at me.

She was yelling at me really hard.

So I went to go get dressed.

She starts pointing a gun at me.

She starts waving it around, pointing

it at me, so I grabbed it from her.

Then she takes my pants.

She goes outside...

and she lights 'em on fire

with lighter fluid.

She's crazy, Frank.

She's f***ing nuts.

I got in the car.

I was driving home.

Just driving down Fifth

Street, like always.

And then...

a kid... a kid comes out of nowhere,

on a bike in the middle of the road.

And I hit him.

So, I can't leave the kid

there, the poor kid.

I gotta put him in the back seat and

take him to the hospital, right?

Then when I went to pick him up...

he was dead, Frank.

I mean...

It was the most horrible

thing I ever f***ing seen.

I drove a block from Saint Mary's

I dropped him in the frozen grass

in front of the office building...

And then I came to see you, Frank.

I don't think we should

go back to Reno.

Now...

There's an old wooden box in

my closet, behind my sweaters.

Inside the box is 500

dollars and my will.

The will gives you instructions

on what to do with my body,

how and where to pay the rent, title

to the car, that sort of thing.

Also, there's your dad's fancy gun.

Don't let anybody fool you.

That gun's worth money.

Now, if I can hang on...

you'll soon both be old

enough to live on your own.

But...

if I do die...

they may try to split you up.

Jerry Lee!

No matter what...

I want you two to stay together.

Sorry.

I really am, Frank.

Let's go eat something.

I don't feel like

being around anyone.

I'm gonna get you some...

some soup or something.

Alright.

One day you were feeling like sh*t,

so you stole Dad's credit card and

drove to the Cotton Tail Ranch.

You met this girl there, Candy.

And in the course of a week you

spend 4,000 dollars on her.

She was good. You made that

clear, she was damn good.

You read her one of your stories

while she sat on her knees.

When you were done, she told you

the hummer was on the house

'cause your story was that good.

You were on a roll so you got a room and

became a shut-in. A man on a mission.

You didn't sleep for two days,

and wrote four stories.

Th last one, your masterpiece, starred

Candy as a lonely Asian stripper.

It was called "Hey Candy,

it's me Romeo".

You decided to get some rest and see the

last frontiers, so you drove to Alaska.

But it's colder than

sh*t in Alaska,

and you started to feel guilty

about Dad and his credit card.

So you drove back to Reno, and bought

a solid gold watch with diamonds,

and gave it to him.

He didn't know what to think.

A couple of days later he

got the credit card bill

and the son of a b*tch had you

committed to a mental hospital.

But it sure beat working.

You had all kinds of meds...

and green grass as far

as the eye can see.

And you didn't feel bad about Dad anymore

because that watch you gave him...

was a nice f***ing watch.

What the f*** were you

thinking, Jerry Lee?

Frank, Frank!

Hey Polly Flynn.

Jesus, you were in there forever.

Thanks for leaving the note.

He said he didn't have the nerve

to shoot himself in the head.

You know he stole my gun? My gun.

What'd he do?

Whatever it is,

I didn't do anything.

Frank...

I'm doing really well.

I've moved to Elko in

a small apartment.

I still think about you.

- Do you think we'll see any bears?

- Maybe.

Come on.

It would be really wonderful

to hear from you.

But I understand.

- Who's place is it, again?

- I don't know.

Love, Annie.

Aah, whiskey.

It's like they knew we were coming.

I wish we lived here.

I could make apple pie,

you could hunt deer.

- You know how to make apple pie?

- No.

It's okay.

I don't think I could shoot a deer.

Jerry Lee could even

have his own room.

Or maybe you'll play

for the Yankees,

and we'll come here to get away from

all your fans, and the reporters.

Like a secret hide-out

or something.

God, I wish we lived here.

Hi. I'm getting a

check for Flannigan.

Here you go.

Flannigan!

Where the hell've you been?

I had to hire someone else.

I know, I just came by

to pick up my check.

You should've called. You know, whatever

it was, maybe I could've helped.

Yeah?

Do you have a phone book?

Say goodbye to Daddy.

Look after your sister, all right?

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