The Informers

What the fuck?

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 I?

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,

leaving 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?

10:30.

Fuck.

Fuck.

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 I.

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 fuck 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 through his lawyers.

Guess what? I get to go to Hawaii with the asshole.

I can't fucking believe this shit.

-I can't believe you guys are acting this way. -Acting?

What way, Ray-Ray?

Don't tell me he's gonna cry again.

Fuck!

Face it. Bruce was a jerk.

Okay? He's dead. It's over. Let's not fucking dwell on it.

I can't believe you guys don't fucking give a shit.

You seem like you don't give a shit.

Look, Raymond, there's nothing we can do, okay?

It happened. It's over. It's time to move on.

He's right, Raymond. It's already been a week.

Okay. Bruce...

Bruce was a...

A cool guy.

What else can I tell you, Raymond? I'm sorry it happened.

"Bruce was a cool guy"? Really, Graham?

Okay, what does that even mean, "Cool"?

Especially after that shit he pulled with Christie.

-Martin, what the fuck are you doing? -What shit did he pull with Christie?

-Martin. -Bruce was fucking her behind your back.

What, like, you all knew about this?

Graham, you always say that you're not that serious about Christie.

And it's not like you haven't fucked around.

You know, you're never gonna win Boyfriend of the Year.

-She's my girlfriend, Martin. -Look, who even knows if it's true?

It's just something Bruce told us and that he bragged about.

Hey, does anybody want to go to a movie?

Sure, what's playing?

I can't believe you guys are gonna go see a fucking movie.

What the...

I can't believe you don't give a shit, man.

-I was there, you asshole. -Hey, come on!

I watched him fucking bleed to death just like you did,

so don't give me this shit about how I don't care.

I had his blood all over my face. Fuck.

Someone should go talk to him.

Tim, Bruce thought Raymond was an asshole.

He fucking loathed the dude, okay? And what the fuck does it even matter?

We're having a fucking wake at the Beverly Hilton.

I mean, come on, do you get it?

Come on. Get up.

Bruce wouldn't want to see you like this.

He was my friend, right?

Yeah. He was your friend.

Are you lying to me, Graham?

No.

I'm telling you the truth.

How's work?

It's good.

I have a full slate of movies that are testing really high.

-There's one you might really like. -Yeah? What's that?

It's a movie about this 12-year-old boy who becomes the president.

The president of what?

The United States.

Sounds better than the one about the talking car.

How's Graham?

Well, you know your brother. He's a little hard to reach.

But I'm sure he's upset about his friend's death,

so, you know, it's tough.

When I saw him at the memorial, he seemed fine, though.

He seemed fine at Bruce's memorial?

Yeah.

So how's Cheryl, by the way?

I'm not seeing Cheryl anymore.

What? When did this happen?

That's something I wanted to talk to you about, actually.

-You talk to your mom lately? -We talk.

You know, when she's coherent, which is rarely. Why?

Well, Mom and I are moving back in together.

We're going to live together again.

She didn't tell me that.

-How do you feel about that? -Great.

Great. This is a really good move. Yeah. Really good.

Seriously? I mean, you really think it's great?

Well, to be honest, it hasn't totally hit me that you might actually be serious.

I'm serious.

We're going to be a family again.

Graham and I aren't moving back in, Dad. We're not gonna be a family.

You and Mom are gonna be a couple again, but we're not gonna be a family.

Martin?

You can't call the house anymore.

Why? Is there someone here who cares?

You just can't come over here anymore.

-No. -Are you going to tell me why?

William is moving back in.

Are you telling me he dumped the newscaster chick?

So...

Big Bad William is moving back in.

So the fuck what? Unless you wanna shell out for a room at the Bel-Air...

No, Martin. Martin, you don't understand.

We can't do this anymore. We can't do it. It's over.

Right.

Just like it was over the last time?

Martin, don't.

Baby.

I see.

Well, could I at least

borrow 60 bucks?

I have to pay this guy for these Billy Idol tickets.

And I forgot to go to the Insta-Teller and, you know...

You know, it's just really a massive hassle, so...

What can I do for you, Mr. Metro?

Can you just get these kids out of here, man?

-Hey! What are you doing? Come on. -All right. Time to go.

No!

Hey, Jackson. How's it hanging?

What the fuck are you doing here?