Californication - Seventh Season

I've decided to go abroad for an indeterminate amount of time.

I want to make a literary pilgrimage.

Watching her go, I don't know,

it kind of feels like the end of something.

It makes you wonder if she was the only thing

that was still keeping us together.

- We're getting married! - The runkles!

I now pronounce you wife and early man.

What the fuck?

Dude, I told you I never wanna see his ass

on one of my sets ever again.

Listen, this is a producer-driven medium,

you ineffectual little shit bird.

Shut the fuck up, both of you.

I was just thinking about what I want for all the people in my life,

and I realised that I just want you to be happy.

I want to see you smile and know you mean it.

Hank has to go. He's gotta see a horse about a girl.

This is about following your bliss?

- Is this about love? - It is.

Then you must go.

Go and get her, pal.

Karen, hello.

What are you doing here?

I thought you ran off with the rock and roll circus.

I did.

But I came back for you.

Karen.

Hello.

What are you doing here?

I thought you ran off with the rock and roll circus.

I did, but I came back for you.

Well, I know it's ovennhelming, disorienting even.

But I couldn't be out there knowing that

you were back here alone, by yourself.

Getting older, by the way.

Karen, I love you.

I have always loved you, and I will always love you.

But we need to resolve this shit, one way or the other.

- Wouldn't you agree? - Sure, sure, but...

No, no. No buts.

We gotta... We gotta roll up our sleeves

and do the work, right now.

I say we stay here, until we figure it out.

Or until we both get so fucking horny we can't stand it.

Either way, it's a win win for both of us.

- Hello. - Dude, please, no.

Absolutely not. We are not sharing our table with you.

What are you, European or something?

- I'm sorry, should I... - No, I'm really sorry.

This... this is...

This is... what is this? Explain yourself, woman.

Hank, this is Chris.

- He's in my yoga class. - Oh, Jesus.

And this is Hank.

- He's... - He is... he is?

From my life.

Yoga class?

That fucking old Chestnut? Karen, please. Come on.

I'm sorry.

You should be. Hey, what are we talking about here?

Bikram?

Who has time to make time during bikram?

It's so fucking hot and farty in there.

You ever let one loose in there, cowboy?

I'm sure you have.

It's hard not to let a little prairie dog run in through there, huh?

Why don't we do this another time?

Now there's an idea.

- I'm sorry. - Don't be.

Yeah, don't be.

Umm...

It's totally cool. I know where to find you.

Stalker.

Really nice to meet you, Hank.

Pleasure was all mine, yoga man. All fuckin' mine, all daylong.

Bye, bye now. Namaste away, buddy boy.

Thanks.

Look, this is what makes us fantastic.

We're laughing about that creeper.

What are you talking about? He's totally hot.

What? Westside yoga guy?

That is the oldest shtick in the book, Karen. You're not falling for that.

His cum probably tastes like hummus.

Cummus.

Oh, my god.

This is not going as I had hoped.

- Hanky panky. - Ahhl

I thought I would find you here.

One pear cosmotini, please, my good man.

He's not kidding. And he's not gay any more, entirely.

I came back for her, Charlie.

Yep, Atticus told me all about it.

I ripped my heart out and I threw it at her feet.

And what did she give me in return?

A shit sandwich to chew on.

But enough of my harrowing despair. Tell me about your honeymoon.

Did you crazy kids fuck each other's faces off?

Never mind all that. I got news.

Don't tell me. Another gnarly skin tag has sprouted up

on the underside of that hideous little pouch

you like to call a scrotum?

That, and Atticus just fired me.

Bummer.

But not before he fired you, too.

That's impossible.

That cunty little fuckin' ginger loves me.

He was incredibly moved by my quest.

Yes, he was. Yes, he was. And then he got incredibly bored.

And your absence made him grow a hell of a lot fonder of Aaron sorkin

who suddenly became incredibly available.

Aaron sorkin.

Bringing your Broadway career to a sudden screeching halt.

Ok, well, what now?

I'm waiting. Go on. Say it.

- Come on, just say it already. - Say what?

- Say it. - Oh, that.

- Yeah. - No, I won't say that.

- Make me happy. - I can't.

It would be irresponsible of me, Hank.

Huh?

I do not have an offer for you.

That's not entirely true, actually.

Yeah, some kid keeps emailing me about wanting to interview you

for his college newspaper or some shit.

- I need a fucking job, Charlie. - Yeah, so do I, Hank.

I need to present myself to Karen as an adult male with a job,

a hunter and a gatherer, a provider.

Aw! You're sweet. And totally fuckin' naive.

There are no jobs, Hank. Not any more.

Why, you don't ask?

Because you have pissed on and pissed off

anyone and everyone who's ever given you one.

You have taken a shit on all of it, Hank.

Books, movies, theatre...

Well, what about television?

- What about it? - I could shit on that.

You don't even watch television.

Doesn't mean I can't write it.

What are we gonna do, Hank?

It's all right. It's all right, baby boy.

Tonight we drink.

Tomorrow you start making some phone calls.

An opportunity will present itself.

If not, we can always stuff our pockets full with rocks

and walk hand in hand into the pacific.

That sounds romantic.

Speaking of romance, I want to hear about your honeymoon.

Did you give your ageing bride a kidney infection?

No. Really?

Ok. Talk to me, buddy boy. Tell me all your woes.

Dr hanxtable is most definitely in.

- Where's my bride? - Marcy runklel

my beautiful bride.

- Cokey smurf. - Are you serious, right now?

- This is just what we need, Charlie. - Whoal s and m smurf!

A bad case of whisky dick.

- No whisky. - Don't worry about it, marce.

- I didn't drink any whisky. - Dude's been slamming

- pear cosmotinis all night long. - That's what I had.

He'll probably grow a big-lippy puss, down there.

I'm gonna fuck you so hard, Marcy. I'm gonna fuck you.

Yeah, let's not write any cheques your limp biscuit can't cash, ok?

Hey, hey, be gentle with the boy. He's delicate right now.

What about me? I impulse remarried a depraved lunatic

who can't even get it up for me.

I know. It's not good. I'm sorry, Marcy, you deserve better.

Yeah, I do. I do.

Hey, you guys. Bring it in. Take a knee.

You guys gotta get this shit in perspective, ok?

I came back for the love of my life and she rejected me,

which burns me out on many levels.

Not the least of which is that you fucktards

got your shit together before we did.

Now you, you're letting your pasty white cone head

get in the way of the prime directive.

Yours is not to reason why.

Yours is to seek and destroy her shimmering snatch.

Don't be fucking with her elf esteem.

Oh! Thanks, hanky.

And she's got the magic vagina.

- You know you want it. - I do want it.

- I'm gonna fuck your face off, Marcy. - All right.

Fuck your face.

You're gonna fuckin' be seeing fuckin' stars.

- One step at a time. - I'm gonna fuck you.

Let's see if we can get some blood flowin'

to that thin, bent wang of yours this week.

Wait. Hank, stay.

You're not coming.

What

can I do for you?

Settle down, dude. Are you Charlie Runkle?

Who's asking?

My name's levon. I've been emailing you about Hank moody.

I want to interview him.

I don't know what you're talking about.

I sent you, like, 20 emails.

Why are you here? Who told you where I live?

The Internet told me. You got a pretty retarded name.