The Informers

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What the f*ck?

Tell me something, Roger.

Set your watch back.

There's a time difference.

We're landing in Los Angeles.

It's a city in California.

Anything else you want to know?

You all right, Bryan?

You on edge? Want a Valium? Lude?

Gum?

I used to live here, didn't l?

What did he call it?

A talking tomato?

It's a fucking extraterrestrial, Ron.

So you're telling me

that he's not gonna sign off

until we redesign the talking tomato?

Well, that's bullshit.

Ron, listen, listen to me.

Let me inform you of something, okay?

We don't let 25- year- olds

tell us how to make movies.

Listen, I gotta go. I gotta go, Ron.

Just call... Ron, call me later, okay?

Fast- acting Power Soap really gets in

and blasts stains,

Ieaving your whole wash fresh and clean,

with a brightness

that people will really notice.

Wow! That's incredible.

I thought that ketchup stain

would never come out of Joe's polo shirt.

Whites simply come out whiter

and colors simply come out brighter.

It's the kind of clean that people

will really notice and talk about.

How did you lift those coffee stains?

I thought I was gonna have

to throw my new pantsuit out.

I blasted it out with Power Soap!

...and lets you get on with your day.

President and Mrs. Reagan visited

the grieving families and bereaved widows

of the more than 200 Marines

killed last Sunday in Beirut.

He used the occasion

to condemn the actions of what he called

"ruthless terrorists who..."

What time is it?

F*ck.

F*ck.

We gotta go. We're gonna be late.

Right. That.

I forgot.

Christie, come on. What are you doing?

I don't feel well.

I don't really want to go.

Neither do l.

Look, I'm not gonna let you...

Good morning.

Look, you want to know

why you're not welcome at my house?

Because you're fucked up!

That's not a good enough reason.

That's not even a reason.

That's just one person's opinion.

Look, I don't even want to fucking deal

with you right now, do you understand me?

Listen, I'm calling you from a payphone

outside of Barstow,

and I ain't got any more quarters.

It's simple.

Me and the Indian need a place to hang out

for a couple of days.

We have a plan.

I don't want to hear

about your fucking plan, Peter.

It doesn't involve you,

so stop pissing yourself.

When you lose a child,

you can't help but wonder

what that child's life would have been like.

You can't help but imagine his future.

A future that now

doesn't exist.

But Bruce lived a full life,

and there's some comfort in that.

And that he was a good boy,

and that he had done all the things

he had ever wanted to do.

That the privilege and freedom

that was granted to him

during his brief time in this world

were what made him happy.

I tell myself that I can only

cherish one fact.

He had everything.

And now, in conclusion,

I'm going to play Bruce's favorite song.

It meant a lot to him.

- Hi.

- Hi.

So I made the reservations for 8:30.

- Where?

- Spago.

Okay. Did you tell Susan and Graham?

Well, no. I thought it was

just gonna be the two of us.

William, I'm not really comfortable

with that right now.

Okay.

Well, I'll call them

and tell them to join us, then.

- Or you could call them.

- No. No, you should do that.

Okay.

What the f*ck

was with that favorite song, man?

Bruce had shitty taste in music, but no way.

Personally, I think his mom just liked it.

The real question is, what in the hell are

my mom and dad doing by the sushi bar?

I mean, they're actually

talking to each other.

At least your mom and dad are talking.

My mom gets to talk to my dad

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