Jesus Henry Christ

Would it kill you

to call me Mom?

Just once?

Would it?

Everyone calls you Patricia.

But you're not everyone,

you're my son.

And you're my Patricia.

Everyone thinks that I have

a photographic memory.

But that's not really accurate.

I'm more like

a video camera.

I record what I see,

and, for reasons beyond me,

I always remember.

Frankly, I've always found

photographs depressing,

especially the old ones.

That's my mother, Patricia.

The product of

an unplanned pregnancy.

Patricia was the only girl in

a family of four boys.

Five, counting

my Grandpa Stan.

My grandmother was pregnant

for 72 months.

- Ow!

- Or six years.

Just about 1/6th

of her entire life.

Uncle Billy was the first born

of six sons.

Tim and Tom

came next, then Jimmy,

followed by two baby boys

who died in the uterus.

And finally, Patricia...

who, by all accounts,

had a very happy childhood.

Cheese!

- Cheese!

- Cheese!

Until her tenth birthday.

J' For she's

a jolly good fellow J'

J' For she's a jolly

good fellow J'

J' For she's

a jolly good fellow J'

J' Which nobody can deny M

Happy birthday,

Patricia.

- The candles aren't lit.

- Oh.

Stan.

Stan!

Hand me your lighter.

What lighter?

Oh...

You mean... this lighter.

Boys, if it wasn't

for this lighter...

I'd have been shot straight

through the heart

by one of them pinko, Commie,

socialist, Karl Marx-loving,

liberal wack jobs,

subversive moon bat,

hippie freaks.

Uh-huh.

But if he

thought he could kill

Stan "The Man" Herman...

Kapow, kapow, kapow!

Both:
F*ggot.

Now, one of you boys

gets this when I die,

so be careful with it.

You got something to

say, Billy?

I'm too high to bother with

the likes of you, Stanley.

You son of a--

Give me the goddamn

lighter, now.

Uh, Mommy?

Oh.

Oh, dear, oh, dear.

Oh...

It's almost out.

I'll save ya!

- Stop, drop and roll!

- Jesus H. Christ!

Stop, drop and roll,

stop, drop and roll,

stop, drop and roll,

stop, drop and roll!

My grandmother's death

was only the beginning.

Woo!

I said I'm Starsky,

you're Hutch.

Fine, have it your way.

Starsky's

a total homo anyway.

You calling me queer?

What if I am...

Starsky?

Take it back, take it back!

- I ain't homo!

- Okay, okay, I take it back!

You ain't homo!

Put down the gun, Tim.

Jesus H. Christ!

You didn't really think I'd

shoot my own brother, did you?

Ahh!

Uncle Jimmy died of AIDS.

How he got it,

no one talks about,

which, to me,

makes it even sadder.

Since no one ever

talks about him,

it's like

Uncle Jimmy was never born.

Happy birthday, Billy.

( Horn honking )

Going somewhere?

I'm going up

Canada way.

Canada?

What for?

I'm 18 now.

I don't got a choice.

Yes, you do, stay here.

If I stay here

they'll ship me off to 'Nam

or they'll lock me up in jail.

Either way you look at it,

I gotta go.

But I can't take care

of Stan, not all by myself.

I'm only ten years old.

( Horn honking )

You're gonna do

great, Patty.

I know you are.

Are you stoned?

Stay here with me.

Please, Billy, please!

I... I can't.

My name's not Patty,

it's Patricia.

And you're a coward,

William Herman.

You must be the change you

wish to see in this world.

E-R-A!

I proudly accept

your nomination

for vice president

of the United States.

Anita Hill!

Keep your rosaries

off my ovaries!

Keep your rosaries

off my ovaries!

Mommy!

Mommy!

Mommy!

Mom, Mom, Mom!

( screaming )

Mommy?

Happy birthday, Patricia.

Why is that

woman crying, Mommy?

Because God is punishing her for

being Satan's helper, honey.

Baby killers!

Baby killer!

Jesus H. Christ!

( Baby crying )

Congratulations.

It's a boy.

It's a what?

A beautiful,

healthy baby... boy.

But-- but--

but that's impossible!

All the sonograms

said it was a girl!

I wallpapered her room pink

because it's supposed to be

a girl!

A beautiful,

healthy baby-

Henrietta.

So beautiful.

- Hello.

- Hello.

So, guys, um...

I'm feeding my grandson

the other day, you know?

Henry.

He's like nine months old.

These carrots are...

mmm...

delicious!

Tastes like sh*t!

The kid says...

That was funny,

do it again.

I'm not shitting ya.

The kid at nine months old

is speaking.

Wait 'til I tell the boys.

My grandson's

a freak genius!

No, no, no, no, no, Stan.

You do not say a word

about this to anyone.

- Stan... Stan...

- I swear, I swear, I swear.

You know, the kid's not

just smart.

You can tell,

he's got a good heart.

What's a freak, Patricia?

A freak is...

someone who's

very special.

Henry, honey.

It makes me feel lucky.

Stop pointing at him.

Aw...

I didn't say

nothing to no one.

Then what is this?

Now that there is

one photogenic kid.

I don't want Henry

to see any of this.

This... this... trash.

I don't want him to know

anything about it.

You got it.

Now let's go home.

I can't...

take care of you

anymore.

I won't.

Patricia.

I'm a grown man who can

take care of himself!

You're a grown man who's never

cooked a meal for himself

in his entire life!

Or washed any of his own

underwear

or raised any of his four sons

or made the necessary

arrangements to

bury three of them!

( Crying )

Oh...

Now don't you cry,

Henry, my boy.

Uh...

Your mother's right.

Your Grandpa Stan

being here...

Me being here

is best for all of us.

YUP-

Best for...

Gotta go, Geronimo!

What?

Ahh!

I'm okay.

"Y- ".

"Y- ".

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