The Woodsman

On your left.

On your right.

You must check in

with your P.O. Once a week.

Your P.O. Is entitled

to visit at any time.

You cannot come

within 300 feet of...

You must register immediately

upon return...

- Walter?

- Hey, Bob.

It's good to see you.

That's Mary-Kay.

The only reason I'm doing this is 'cause

I know you did good work for my father.

So you be here on time.

You do your work.

I don't want

any kind of problem, period.

God, that looks awful.

Yeah.

Now, this looks good.

Want some? Homemade.

No, thanks.

You won't taste

a better chicken salad in town.

I said no, thank you.

I'm sorry. I got to get back to work.

- So, how are you adjusting?

- I'm adjusting okay.

- And your new apartment?

- Apartment's okay.

- How's the job?

- The job's okay.

Do I take "okay" to mean

you feel good about working there?

I said the job's okay.

That's right. You did.

- Vicki!

- F*ck you, asshole.

- Come on. What's wrong, huh?

- Kiss my ass.

Boy, you still think fast.

You don't need to think fast

to handle a beer.

Well, it took some talking

to convince your super I was a relative.

Yeah, well, I told her

all my relatives were good-looking.

- Jesus Christ, man, it's good to see you.

- Yeah, you too.

You look good...

damn good,

considering you're an old man now.

Feels like the whole world's

gotten younger.

So, you're doing okay?

Yeah, I'm okay.

- How's business?

- Booming.

Can't keep up with the work.

In fact, I just hired a few new guys.

Just until, you know, we catch up.

Living across the street

from a grade school. Jesus.

Something wrong with that?

I'm just thinking of the noise.

It's the only landlord in town

who'll take my money.

So, how's Annette?

A little tense.

You know, you're the only member

of the family still speaking to me.

Yeah, well, I remember when

they all gave Annette shit...

because she married the brown-skinned boy

from down the street... except her brother.

And what about Annette?

I'm workin' on it.

- So how old is Carla?

- She's gonna be 12 next week.

We're gonna throw her

a big party on Saturday.

I wish I could ask you to come.

Good enough

to eat today, baby.

Ooh, yeah.

What the f*ck do you think

you're doing, huh?

How'd you like it if someone did

that shit to your sister, huh?

Piece of shit!

F*ck off!

Clean that shit up!

- Oh, yeah.

- Play with yourself, asshole!

You okay?

What?

- Are you okay?

- Yeah, I'm fucking fantastic.

So, what'd he do?

- What did who do?

- You know, the new guy.

Drugs, armed robbery,

manslaughter...

Mind your business, Mary-Kay.

Have you made any friends there?

I'm not running for Mr. Popularity.

You seem a little hostile today.

It's called sarcasm, Dr. Rosen.

No need to call me doctor.

I'm a therapist, not a psychiatrist.

It's all the same to me.

Walter, I'd like you

to try something for me.

- What's that?

- I'd like you to keep a journal.

- No fuckin' way.

- Why not?

Evidence.

Perhaps a journal would

encourage you to reflect.

Try it?

Sixteen, 17, 18, 19, 20.

How about that?

Want a ride?

- I'm all right.

- It's fucking freezing out here.

- I'm fine.

- Come on. I won't bite.

Something wrong

with this picture.

Here's this nice, hard-working guy...

suddenly appears out of the blue.

Takes the bus to and from work.

I mean, who takes

the bus anymore?

People who don't have cars.

- It's very weird.

- Not as weird as a sharp, young...

good-looking woman

working in a lumberyard.

Oh, yeah?

What's weird about that?

Most women wouldn't choose it.

Guess I'm not like most women.

You never spoke to me before.

Rate this script:(0.00 / 0 votes)