Camouflage

To whom it may concern,

my name is Jack Potter.

I'm a private detective, a p.I., a dick.

This is my town, the city of angels,

the land of sunshine, the land of make-believe,

but sometimes it's tough knowing what's real

and what's fake.

What I'm telling you is the truth.

This is exactly how it happened.

It's all right. You're going to be fine.

Oh, Ryan.

Oh, thank god. How did you find me?

Well, Flanagan messed up.

The postmark from the letter you supposedly sent

is from a business, and here I am.

Oh! Oh, I'm so glad.

I thought I'd be here forever.

Sorry, Ryan.

It amazes me how you can be smart yet so stupid,

all at the same time.

So, it was you.

You killed Michael.

And you're the only one who knows.

Hey!

You know, there's three things I learned as a p.I.

Never trust a dame,

always get it on tape

and always bring backup.

She's all yours, fellas!

But-- ooh!

Get the tramp out of here!

Too bad she was rotten, huh, Ryan?

Could've had a nice life together.

Yeah...

It's too bad.

How could she do this to me?

How could he do this to us?

Thank you!

I'd just like to thank you all for coming to the world premiere

of shooting in the dark,

my debut as writer, director, producer and star.

Thank you.

Okay, let's go.

Hollywood's the land of illusion,

and for a lot of these bozos,

it's the land of delusion.

Hey, how are you doing?

He-hey, fellas! Johnny, what's up?

Hey, Frankie. I'll catch you guys in a bit.

He-hey! Guys! Let me buy you a drink.

Hey! Hey!

Oh, sweetie.

It was really, really good.

Thanks a lot for coming, you guys.

Well, Ernie, any of the people you brought liked my work?

I mean, come on, man.

They had to be some of the best stuff I've ever done.

Well, I know you gave it your best shot, Marty.

I just wanted to come down here and tell you myself.

It sucked.

I mean it really sucked.

But hey, don't beat yourself up.

Don't beat myself up?

Ernie, I sunk every last dime I had into this thing.

I even sold my car, for Christ's sake.

Yeah, yeah. I know, I know. Look, I've got to go.

Hold it!

Ernie, how are we going to do?

Well, I'm going somewhere else,

and you're going to start looking for new representation.

Okay?

Hold it!

Hey.

Ernie, look at me.

Get your hands off me.

I'm castable. I'm extremely castable.

I mean it. Let go of me.

You can't do this to me.

Really?

The fight is over, all right?

Or do you want me to shove this pool cue up your flabby ass?

Oh, no problem. I'm gone.

Lose my number.

Oh, sweetie, your nose.

Oh, sit down.

Let me take a look at that beak.

See, you might have some fragmented cartilage

jammed up that frontal lobe.

Wouldn't be good for your gramp status.

Ow!

All right.

Now, I can straighten out that septum

if you want to keep your good looks.

Oh, his livelihood depends on it.

You a pimp?

No.

I'm an actor.

Hmm.

This is going to hurt?

No, it's just a minor adjustment.

Here we go.

Christ!

Jesus, that hurt!

Well, you see, all pain is not bad.

Sometimes that's how we learn.

See you around, kid.

Oh, sweetie. Ow!

Who was that?

Jack Potter. He's been a regular here for over 20 years.

He's a private eye.

No shit?

What, you mean the real thing?

The real deal.

I deal in the truth.

Sometimes the truth hurts bad.

When you get up at night to take a leak

and crack your toe on the edge of the frigging bed.

Jesus, that hurts.

I keep an office on Hollywood and vine,

a seedy part of town but 10 or 20 years ago

was a seedy part of town.

The only thing anybody ever discovered here

is the hooker they just paid has a penis.

Potter, Morris and mann.

But I was about to be discovered by the kid.

His name is Marty MacKenzie,

another actor with empty pockets

and a head filled with dreams of stardom.

He wrote his own play, a detective story,

but Marty didn't have a clue.

That's what set into my door.

Come in!

Hollywood and 603 Broadway...

Suspect is a white hermaphrodite

dressed in a black hockey Jersey

with matching pleated skirt, over.

Uh, hey. Potter?

You remember me, the bloody nose from last night?

The name is Mr. Potter or Jack.

I'm Potter to those I've known for a long time

or who can whip my ass. Now, what can I do for you?

Um, maybe you could help me out.

That's my job, helping out people for a price, of course.

So, what's your problem?

Your old lady fucking somebody else?

No.

I'm doing research for my new detective play.

Teach me how a real p.I. Works, Mr. Potter.

Please, i--

you know, I'd make a great detective, and you know why?

Because I just played one in this really cool play,

and I tore it up.

I don't need any help, so you're wasting your time.

Well, what about your partners?

Do they need any help?

I work alone.

Well, can I at least fill out an application?

Uh, yeah.

Here's an application.

Put your name and number down there,

and if I need you, I'll give you a call.

You won't regret hiring me.

Here's my name and my number on there, and please.

If you have anything, give me a call.

See you around.

Yeah.

Oh, the... your pen.

Marty didn't know dick about being a dick.

The critics murdered his play,

his agent gave him the old five-knuckle nose job,

then his girlfriend dumped him for her girlfriend.

Marty was on a roll...

Evicted.

Downhill.

Anything else, sport?

Uh, a little water?

No, thanks.

Oh, here he is. Hey, Jack.

Hi, Nick.

Mr. Potter!

Look, Mr. Potter...

Mr. Potter, i--

I got nobody.

I have no money, no place to go,

nowhere.

Look, I'll do anything.

I'll scrub your floors, I'll mop your ceilings,

I'll clean your toilet,

I'll even kiss your ass, if you please

just let me sleep on that ugly green couch of yours,

and I'll work for free.

You know what you need?

A drink.

That tastes like Pepsi.

It is Pepsi.

Ulcers.

So, I tossed the kid a break.

I gave him a tw0-week test drive to see if he could cut it,

and don't call me softie. The Viagra fixed that.

Shit.