Krystal Page #4

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You? Get the f***

out of here.

- Honest to God, Campbell.

- I met her at AA.

- When did you start going to AA?

- You don't even drink.

Well, no, I'm not

really an alcoholic.

I just went to a meeting, by

accident, because Krystal was there.

- Krystal?

- Sounds like some kind of stripper.

Well, she is. Was.

Now, can I have a drink?

Where's this Krystal from?

- Who cares. I love her.

- No, you don't.

How the hell do you know?

Can I have that drink now?

No, your heart and all, no.

My heart is fine.

My heart is in love.

I don't like this.

I don't like this one bit.

Love is... I don't know.

- What is love, Wyatt, dear?

- Dangerous.

But exactly, very dangerous.

Good. I could use a little danger,

with a Jack Daniel's chaser.

You can tell a good bit about

someone by where they're from.

- Did I ask you where she's from?

- You did.

And what did you say?

I didn't,

because I don't know.

Now can I have one of those?

Give Romeo a shot.

No. No.

She thinks I'm a drunk. How can I be

a drunk if I've never had a drink?

It's one drink, big deal.

What could happen?

[Taylor] Whoo-hoo-hoo!

Yeah! Whoo!

Faster! Faster!

Where is she?

[Campbell] Tay-Tay, you're not

gonna find her out there.

- Well, well, not with that attitude.

- Uh-huh.

You don't understand, man.

I'm in love.

With a stripper junkie.

She's more than that.

Aren't we all?

Me, in love, instantly.

Madly.

Head over heals... ly.

Oh, Tay-Tay,

this is so sad, really.

You have a near-death heart

thing, you come out of it and,

bingo, enter Slutina,

Queen of the South.

Now you're in love?

You just don't understand.

What the f***'s going on

with this red SUV?

They've been following us

all night.

Hey, you know this guy?

Where are you?

[telephone ringing]

There.

[grunting]

Greenwood Gallery.

How may I...?

No!

Actually, I feel like sh*t.

Okay, I accept that.

However, the marijuana

was your idea.

Opium?

You are f***ing-A, Tweety Bird

right I want some more,

and it's all your fault,

so goodbye and f*** you!

Oh. Hello.

I guess our f***ing-A Tweety

Bird has arrived from the Bronx.

Vera, I have something

to confess.

I'm sure you do.

I'm not really an alcoholic.

Well, God knows,

you don't smell like one.

I've decided

to become your sponsor.

You should be thrilled.

Now, listen carefully,

sweet, sweet boy. Step one:

...to admit that I am

powerless over alcohol

and that my life

has become unmanageable.

You don't have enough of a life

for it to be unmanageable.

And you're not an alcoholic.

This heroin hooker,

chicks like her don't fall

for guys like you.

What's wrong with me?

What's really wrong with you

is you're a good guy.

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