Becks Page #8

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Oh, okay, good,

everybody's going.

It's a great party.

Oh, yeah, like a 1960's

astronaut farewell picnic.

[chuckles]

Does this happen to you a lot?

The super subtle

lesbian setup? Yeah.

But at least you're cute.

You know, usually

it's like, uh...

like some woman

who looks like a fat mayor

from an old cartoon strip

or like Lauren with

the backwards Kangol cap

who makes beer.

- I don't know.

- But we're both lesbians,

so we obviously have

to get married right away.

Yes, yes, oh, God.

I still hate that word

though, "lesbian."

- Really?

- Yeah.

Well, "gay" is no better.

I feel like "gay" is better.

"Gay" is better

'cause it's not like...

'cause "lesbian" sounds like

a mad lizard or like a...

like a Hogwarts house

that nobody wants to be in.

You know? "Lesbian."

You're right, you're right.

"Gay" is a lot better.

So what are you doing?

Why would you ever

in a million years be here?

- Well, I grew up here.

- Oh, okay.

And then I went out to New York

for a while, and I'm here again.

Oh, so you're back.

Yeah, back,

but not for long.

Um, what's the scene

like out here?

Eh, it's, you know,

it's not bad.

There are actual

gay people here.

It's not like you

have to just sit around,

jacking off

to all the L Word reruns

or anything like that.

- There's not shame in that.

- No, I guess not.

- There's a couple places.

- Yeah?

I mean, we can go right now,

if you want to go.

- You wanna get outta here?

- F*** yeah.

- Oh, sh*t, okay.

- Mm-hmm.

F*** it.

Okay.

You good? You're done?

- I gotta pregame.

- Let's go.

[rock]

I'm a musician.

[groans]

Oh, gosh.

Wanna tell me where you were?

Out.

I called you three times.

You couldn't pick up?

My phone died.

I didn't know whether to

start calling hospitals or...

- Jesus, Mom, I'm fine.

- Don't you dare Jesus me.

- Calm down.

- Calm down?

You expect me

to be here for you,

and you can't give me

a flying phone call?

Okay, I'll call you next time.

Are we done?

I couldn't sleep, wondering

where you could possibly be.

Really, Mom? You can't imagine?

Think really hard.

Whoever conceals their sins

does not prosper...

Mom, stop the scripture sh*t.

I'm not Dad.

Well, I don't know

how to talk to you.

- Then don't.

- Look, I'm sorry

if that's not the first place

my mind goes.

We didn't do that kind of stuff

when we were your age.

No, you didn't do

that kind of thing.

Everyone else did.

- Now you're just being mean.

- I'm just telling the truth.

You and Dad didn't even

sleep in the same room.

Don't you dare pretend to know

anything about our marriage.

You have absolutely no idea.

What, that you literally

nagged Dad to death?

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