JONATHAN: America has produced
only three classic writers,
Mark Twain, J.D. Salinger,
and me.
I'm Jonathan Flynn.
Everything I write
is a masterpiece.
And soon, very soon,
I shall be known.
At this point of the story,
let's call it the present,
I am an upstanding citizen
of these United States.
I have a job,
a roof over my head.
I have sustenance.
Perhaps I'll let you
read my masterpiece someday.
The Button Man, also known as The
Confessions of Christopher Cobb.
It's classic.
NICK: This isn't his story.
Well, it is,
but he is not telling it,
I am.
I'm Nick Flynn, his son, and I am
sort of trying to be a writer.
I mean, not at
this very moment.
At this moment
I'm trying to...
Wake up.
(CLEARS THROAT)
Hey, wake up.
All my life, my father has
been manifest as an absence.
A non-presence.
A name without a body.
What if he
doesn't show up?
He's gonna show up.
How do you know?
Because if he doesn't
show up this time,
I'm going
to kill him.
How will you find
him to kill him?
I have ways.
Can we get ice cream
if he doesn't show up?
Here is the bus.
Here he is.
JODY: No, that
is not him.
He must be
in the back.
(SNIFFLES)
What kind of ice cream
do you want to get?
Chocolate.
NICK: Some part of me knew
he would show up someday.
If I stayed in one place long
enough, he would find me,
like you are taught to
do when you are lost.
But what do you do if
both of you are lost
and you both end up in
the same place, waiting?
Hey, sweetie.
Hey.
I'm exhausted.
How was your flight?
Non-stop turbulence.
Nick, what is the ashtray
doing by the bed?
Sorry.
Lipstick?
You are a fucking asshole.
Look, you are the one who said
you didn't see a future for us.
I wonder why?
This is yours!
This is yours.
And this is yours!
All right.
And this is yours.
All right.
My book.
And Yates.
Oh, more Yates.
All right.
Wow! You are
so well-read.
All right.
All right!
I'll pay
for the mirror.
As soon as
I get a job.
Sorry.
For what, your complete
inadequacy as a human being?
Yes.
(SCOFFS)
Well, you warned me.
JONATHAN: Don't
worry, you're back.
Hello.
Back in the hands of
a master storyteller.
(WOMAN SPEAKING IN SPANISH)
Yeah, yeah,
go fuck yourself.
I like kids and
small animals.
What I don't like
is queers and blacks
who try and fuck you up the
ass all day and all night.
But more on that later.
What I am, always have
been, is an artist.
(ROCK MUSIC BLARING)
Shut the fuck up.
Shut up. Shut up.
(MUSIC CONTINUES)
(MUSIC STOPS)
(MUSIC BLARING)
Shut the fuck up!
Shut up!
Shut up!
NICK: A friend of a friend
knew a couple of guys
who were renting
an entire building,
a former strip joint
called "Good Times."
Unfortunately, the good
times were not had by all,
like that Harvard student
who was found
stabbed to death in the
doorway three years before.
(SIREN WAILING)
(DOORBELL BUZZES)
IVAN: I don't know
what to tell you.
That's something you
got to figure out, man.
So, what appeals to you
about living here?
Low rent. IVAN: Yeah,
hold on one second.
Do you have a job?
Uh, no. I have some
money saved up.
I was working as
an electrician,
but now I'm looking
for a new line of work.
IVAN: An electrician?
Can you wire this place up
to look like a spaceship?
(WHISPERS) Ivan.
Yes.
And what field of employment
are you interested in?
Something different,
something more meaningful.
"More meaningful,"
what does that mean?
I don't know.
Are those, like,
the names of strippers?
Yeah. The landlord's Mafia, so he just
left all this shit the way it was
when the FBI
shut him down.
RICHARD: Any family?
Stop interrogating
the guy.
I'm sorry, Ivan, but
my last roommate had
his entire family from Cambodia
sleeping in the living room.
No, my mom's dead, and my dad, I
haven't heard from in 18 years, so...
Perfect.
Done.
So, are you guys like...
No.
No. Okay.
So, Denise, didn't you say they
were hiring people at your work?
They usually are.
Good. 'Cause I think Nick
here is looking for a job.
Give him a break, man.
Where do you work?
Harbor Street Inn.
You heard of it?
No.
It's a homeless shelter.
That sounds intense. So
are you like a do-gooder?
No, I'm a do-badder,
but I work at Harbor Street.
What makes
you a do-badder?
I bet you would
like to know.
I would.
JONATHAN: Upon occasion,
rare occasion, but still,
I'll pick up a female fare and we
will strike up a conversation.
WOMAN: Oh, Jonathan.
Oh, Jonathan.
(MOANING)
Jonathan.
Yeah.
Let's be a little
realistic here.
All right.
(PANTING)
Still, we are having fun,
aren't we, Buttercup?
Absolutely.
Who is this?
That is my wife and kid.
Will you listen to this shit.
(ROCK MUSIC PLAYING)
You are married?
Divorced,
a long time ago.
Well, I had better
get you home.
I left the meter running.
That'll be $240.
(LAUGHING)
Quiet!
Quiet!
I can't even
think anymore!
Excuse me.
(MUSIC CONTINUES)
Open up!
Asshole.
(CRASHING)
(INDISTINCT SCREAMING)
(CRASHING)
NICK: Hey.
Hey.
I was hoping
you'd be here.
Why is that?
Well, so I know somebody.
We don't exactly know
each other, do we?
I guess not.
I'm not interested
in a relationship.
What?
I'm not interested
in a relationship.
Okay, I can cope.
Okay.
(KNOCKING ON DOOR)
Phone call.
Who is it?
Your father.
Who?
Your father, who you supposedly
hadn't seen in 18 years.
This is Nick.
JONATHAN: Is this
Nicholas Flynn?
Yes.
Nicholas, this is your
father, Jonathan Flynn.
It is?
It is. I have a
question for you.
Do you have a truck?
A pickup truck?
Yeah, as a matter
of fact, I do.
I heard as much.
From who?
Your grandmother, she
mentioned it a few years ago.
You do remember your
grandmother, don't you?
I do.
Good.
Now I want you to get in your
truck and drive over here.
I'm sorry, you say
you are my father?
That is correct.
I was evicted and I need
you to get over here
and help me move
my stuff, Nicholas.
How did you
get this number?
Information. Now listen
to me carefully.
I am sitting behind
a door with a shotgun.
I'm waiting for
the knob to turn.
Get over here right now.
That is an appealing offer.
You are damn right it is.
It's all yours. You are
my sole heir, Nicholas.
I want you to
have everything.
You have a pen
or a pencil?
Because I want you to
write this address down.
What am I doing here?
What are you doing here?
What are we doing here?
Thanks for coming.
Sure. Should we just wait here?
Or do you want us...
JONATHAN: Who is it?
It's Nick. Nicholas.
Come on in, the door is open.
Come in.
I'll be with you
in a minute.
I appreciate you
coming over, Nicholas.
We're put on this Earth
to help other people.
Yeah.
JONATHAN: We were put on this Earth
to help other people, Nicholas.
I regret our mutual loss.
I am a born writer,
so are you.
Get this in your head at once. I am a
classic storyteller. A great writer.
I think I want to
be a writer.
Yeah?
Dad is a writer, right?
Ha!
What makes you
think that?
It says right here. It says,
"Work on my novel is going well.
"I shall soon
win the Nobel Prize
"for both storytelling
and poetry.
"No fear."
You know where that
letter was written from?
Prison.
Mmm-hmm.
Why is he in prison again?
Interstate transportation
of stolen securities.
What is that?
He cashed
forged checks.
He stole thousands
and thousands of dollars.
Do you know how much
of that we have seen?
Zero.
Zilch.
Zippo.
Nothing.
Nada.
Niente.
Have you seen my
baseball glove?
If it were up your ass,
you would know where it was.
(CHUCKLES)
(DOOR OPENING)
Well? Gonna come in?
Pleasure to see you, Nicholas,
aside from the circumstances.
NICK: What are
the circumstances?
The circumstances are
that I had a disagreement
with my scum-sucking landlord.
I don't know why.
And so he decided to bring the
police into the discussion.
So now I'm forced
to move.
Move where?
I'm considering my options. I'm
a sought-after house guest.
You know why?
No.
Because I'm
an excellent raconteur.
But until I find
a new place,
I have to put all my
things in storage.
Hey. So I'm not bringing
the gun in my truck.
What?
The shotgun.
Shotgun?
Uh, yeah. You said
you had a shotgun.
A shotgun? Who said that?
I abhor firearms.
I mean, don't get me
wrong, I can defend myself.
Let me just...
You see this?
Yes.
Anyone messes with
me when I'm driving
or walking down
the street, whatever.
Bamo! Right in the head. It sends a
little message, let me tell you.
I'd like to take
that scumbag landlord,
and I'd like to ram it
right up his ass.
This landlord, this merchant,
this fucking user...
Hey, that is great. Would
you mind putting that away?
I'd like to
take this and...
Please? ...ram it
up his fucking ass,
twist it around,
pull it down,
rip out his innards and
fucking pull them out.
You get the
fucking picture.
That was my
first wife, Jody.
I know who it is.
She was my mother.
I know she was
your mother.
She was the most beautiful
woman in the world.
She was the
love of my life.
She was the
light of my love.
I know if she was still alive
today, we'd be together.
Such a tragic accident.
What accident?
The accident that
cut her life short.
It wasn't an accident.
She left a note.
Did it mention me?
No.
Ah.
Not much of a letter
writer, your mother.
All right, Nicholas.
Why don't we get started.
You can just take all this
stuff and throw it in a box.
The paintings
be careful of.
Especially this one and that
one, and that one on the wall.
Be careful of all this stuff.
It's all valuable.
Nicholas, I want you
to have this.
This is an original
Jackson Pollock.
He was a friend.
Oh, no.
I couldn't.
No, I want you to have it.
Okay, thanks.
Are you going to help move
this stuff, since it's yours?
I wish I could, but I suffer from
lethal phlebitis in both legs.
You be careful with those boxes.
There's manuscripts.
Manuscripts.
Those are your friends?
I guess. Yeah.
A homosexual and
a black pothead?
Well, good luck to you.
Well, I have to
get to work now.
Do you mind just locking the
padlock when you're finished?
Yeah. Wait.
So you drive a taxi?
Well, it's an excellent
way of learning
about all different
kinds of people.
And what is
your vocation?
My vocation? Uh...
I've done lots
of different jobs.
I always thought you'd end up
a writer, like your old man.
Actually, I do write. You
know, sometimes. I try.
Well, there is no such
thing as trying to write.
One writes,
or one doesn't.
You have to take every opportunity
to practice your craft.
Anyway, I know you have inherited
some writing talent from me,
because I am
a truly great writer.
I'm going to
show you something.
I have a letter
from Viking Press.
You've heard of Viking
Press, haven't you?
Yeah.
Look at this. Look
at that phrase there.
"Your book is a virtuoso
display of personality.
"Unfortunately, its dosage would kill
hardier readers than we have here."
"Virtuoso display,"
Viking Press.
Well, it's been a great
pleasure, Nicholas.
Well, hey, uh...
All right.
You need anything?
Aside from the Pollock?
No.
All right. Well,
au revoir, then.
You're welcome.
Don't mention it.
Your father's
a nightmare.
What's that?
(LAUGHS)
It's a fucking
Jackson Pollock painting.
Jackson Pollock?
Jesus!
Hmm.
Pollock spelled his name
wrong when he signed it.
NICK: So then he
gives me a gift,
a Jackson Pollock painting.
Which, like an asshole,
I think is real.
So after 18 years
of wondering,
here's what I learned
about my father.
He's a racist, he's a homophobe,
and he's fucking crazy.
Can you reach him?
I mean, if you wanted to?
I don't know that I ever want
to see him again. Really.
I don't know how
I feel about it.
I can't really
locate what I feel.
Is that why you
called me?
To help you locate
your feelings?
Do you want to get out of here?
You look beautiful.
None of that.
We're friends now.
We're friends?
Yeah.
I mean, don't get me wrong, I
enjoyed sleeping with you, but...
Thank you.
I told you I didn't
want a relationship.
So, now we're friends.
Okay. Well, thanks
for letting me know.
You're welcome.
You should think about
working at Harbor Street.
Why?
Well, I was in kind
of a fucked state,
mentally, when
I started there.
Um, yeah, just,
I like working there.
Tell me about
your fucked state.
Do you want another
one of these?
All right?
Hey, how are you?
How's it going?
How did you hear
about this job?
A friend of mine,
Denise, works here.
Okay.
So what makes you want to
work with the homeless?
I don't know. Uh...
I mean, we are put on this Earth
to help other people, right?
Someone I knew
told me that.
Who?
Who? No one. Uh...
Look, I guess I just see
homeless people everywhere.
It seems like there
is more and more.
Seems like it.
I guess I just want a job that,
you know, means something.
Something where I don't despise
myself when I come home from work.
So you despise yourself?
I don't know. Uh, sure.
Doesn't everyone?
I don't despise myself.
I used to be
a guest here.
Then I worked here.
I had a permanent bed.
And then I moved out.
I got a job in construction,
became the foreman.
Then one day I came back
here to give something back.
So I've come
a long way up,
but it's a quick
fall down.
So I really can't
afford to hate myself.
You know what
I'm talking about?
You don't know what
I'm talking about.
But that's okay.
Tell you what. I can put
you on the fill-in list.
If we need somebody
to fill in, we'll call.
Thanks.
Hey, so why do they
call you Captain?
Because I'm the Captain.
Okay.
IVAN: Just bring it
by right now.
Okay, later.
Hey, they called
from Harbor Street Inn.
They want you to
fill in tonight.
Tonight?
NICK: There were different types
of people who worked there.
There were
the religious types.
I want to live my life
the way Christ does.
Also, I hate
my rich parents.
Hey, guys, can you
bring those over here?
There were the punks.
Check in, sir, and we are
gonna get you to the clinic.
This place is hardcore.
Plus, the pay is
not bad. Next.
There were the ex-cons.
All right, next. So this dude
was gonna shoot me, right?
So, I turned sideways,
'cause that is what you do.
You turn sideways,
you take it in the arm.
I flex my bicep,
I take the bullet.
And then I grabbed the gun from this
guy, and I'm like bam-bam-bam-bam.
Right in his fucking head, then
it's like click-click-click.
Let me tell you, I had to
disappear for a while after that.
All right, put
your arms up.
Joy was an ex-cokehead
and a prostitute.
JOY: There you go, honey.
Now, she's like
a mother to the guys.
Unfortunately,
in a couple of years,
she will be sitting in a room
with a shotgun across her lap,
back to dealing and
smoking crack 24/7.
It's hard to stay changed.
I start out working inside the
cage handing out bed tickets,
collecting people's valuables
and locking them up overnight.
It's Friday, payday. A lot
of the guests have jobs.
There is more money to
slip into the envelopes.
Let's go.
Hey!
The air is thick,
stale, smells like sweat.
Back off.
Friday, the drunks
are more boisterous.
MAN 1: Move up, old man! MAN 2: Why
you always got to be touching me?
Because you are standing
still, that's why.
Every single day, I get in line,
and you're right up my ass.
(ARGUING INDISTINCTLY)
Maybe I should help.
Yeah, maybe not.
Not yet.
(CONTINUES ARGUING)
There is a balance between
escalating and defusing.
Knowing when to step in,
and when to back off.
Hey, buddy,
calm down!
Oh, shit.
I don't know
that balance yet.
Well? Are you able to
locate your feelings now?
Yeah, this fucking hurts.
You are going to
have a good shiner.
You didn't tell me this
place was such a rush.
It's addictive. Watch out,
or you will never leave.
So, how many of these people
get back on their feet?
I couldn't tell you.
But what I do know
is a year from now,
through here will be dead.
We catch them on the way down.
Next stop, the morgue.
(DOORBELL RINGS)
(CHUCKLING)
Hey. Steady Ray, as ever.
Jonathan, how are you?
So, I thought I might
stay over tonight.
I find myself
momentarily between places.
The thing is, Claire's mom is here.
She's staying with us.
That is okay.
I'll sleep on the couch.
No, that is where
she's staying.
We are renovating
the guest room.
Tell her to get the fuck off
and let me sleep with her.
Is she nice?
Yeah. You met her?
(SINGING)
Mother-in-law, mother-in-law
Mother-in-law
Hey, honey!
Shh.
I mean, this wasn't
because of the old
burning-of-the-Christmas-tree
thing, was it?
No. That's ancient history.
Exactly, because it was really funny.
You got to admit, it was.
Yeah. That was
a lot of fun.
Sure, all right. Well, okay,
give Claire de Lune my love.
And I'm going to try Dugan.
He is always begging
me to come over
and provide some
free entertainment for
him and his
miserable missus.
Dugan moved to Florida.
He did? Moved to Florida?
Why the hell would he do that?
I don't know,
the weather.
Oh, the weather.
Okay, looks like I'm going to
head to my suite at the Ritz.
I'm sorry.
Okay, Ray.
Good night.
All right. Good night.
Take care. Give the
lovely missus my love.
Don't forget to write.
Yeah, I'll write.
In jail.
(CHUCKLES)
CLAIRE: Ray?
I'm coming.
JONATHAN: For the next few
weeks I lived out of my cab.
Renting it 24 hours a day,
seven days a week.
It's a wonderful life.
You shit at
the bus station,
you shower at the Y.
But it's not all
fun and games.
Cabbies get shot in
the head every night.
Bamo! Right in the jugular.
Right in the fucking jugular.
I'll ram it down their throat and
rip their insides right out.
Hurry up!
(THUDDING)
(SIREN BLARING)
The police said I hit someone,
or some fucking thing.
What can I say to that?
Now, I have no license,
no cab, no place to sleep.
Perhaps I'll start a new book,
Memoirs of a Moron!
Memoirs of a fucking moron.
Memoirs of a fucking moron.
NICK: After the cage,
I work housing.
It's more intense. You are not
protected behind steel mesh.
Okay, grab a cup,
have a good shower.
Hey, I'll meet you in the
hot room in 10 minutes.
Okay. If I'm
not there,
just take your clothes off
and start without me.
Okay.
The hot room smells of superheated
sweat, quick fermented.
Excuse me.
I need a new
pair of pants.
No problem.
I'll be right back.
Hey, how do I know
what size he wears?
You ask him.
At Harbor Street you write up
every day's events in the log,
and you read off
your entry that night.
He's not gonna bite.
I take that opportunity
to practice.
"9:10, Isaac Clegg fell out of
bed, and the bed fell on him.
"The skin of a drunk
splits open easily,
"their blood flows more freely,
thinned out by the booze.
"The nurse is
gone for the evening
"and Isaac is loath
to go to the hospital.
"I make an attempt
to bandage him. "
I'm just gonna wrap this around you.
You okay?
"9:30, I was able
to convince George D.
"to sit still for his
monthly de-lousing."
My beloved family, they beheaded
me, their beloved Queen.
I loved them.
They were my friends.
"Lice thrive so well
on George's body
"that they can be seen crawling
over him at 20 paces."
I would never hurt them.
I would never kill them.
Hey, it's okay, man.
I understand, George.
But, I mean, they beheaded
you, didn't they? So why not?
This is the right
decision, George.
"Nothing in the shelter makes
me understand my purpose more
"than to kill bugs off of
a homeless man's flesh..."
Okay. All right.
Let's get you cleaned up.
"...to dress him well in
donated, cast-off clothes,
"and to see him the next day
laughing beside a burning barrel."
Okay, Nick.
Very expressive.
I like the stuff about Isaac being
loath to go to the hospital.
Thank you.
How about we let the next
person read their entry?
"10:00 p.m., fight broke
out in reading area.
"10:30, Wally G. Caught
smoking in bed."
Which I confiscated,
by the way.
Lucky number 41.
Hey, what are you
up to after work?
Nothing.
Thank you.
I thought we
were just friends.
DENISE: Shut up.
What's all this?
Just old letters.
Is this from
your father?
He was in jail?
He passed forged checks
in between writing
the great American novel.
Nice.
Are these all
from your dad?
Yeah.
There's like a hundred
letters in here.
This yours?
Don't read that.
"Loaded, I say.
"Wasted, looped, lit, off my
ass, befuddled, reeling, tanked,
"punch-drunk, mean drunk,
maintenance drunk,
"sloppy drunk, happy drunk, weepy
drunk, blind drunk, dead drunk,
"serious drinker,
hard drinker."
What is this?
Nothing. Some poetry. It's shit.
"Polluted, blitzed,
shattered, zonked,
"ossified, annihilated,
fossilized,
"stinko, blotto, legless,
smashed, soaked,
"screwed, blasted,
"hammered, tore up, ripped up,
ripped, destroyed."
Cheerful stuff.
No one will ever read it.
I just did.
Come back to bed.
What will you
give me if I do?
JONATHAN:
Dear Mr. President.
The proper study
of mankind is man.
Ortega y Gasset defined genius as the
ability to invent one's occupation.
I am a writer,
a poet, a storyteller.
WOMAN: (OVER INTERCOM) The library
will be closing in 10 minutes.
The library will be
closing in 10 minutes.
If the present holds any
promise of the years ahead,
the United States can look
forward to many generations of
executives unable to
spell their names correctly.
Yours, as ever,
Jonathan R. Flynn.
Give me that. That's my
personal property, you ape.
Thank you.
Tonight, I'm doing
a little after-hours banking.
I'm depositing
a check for $750,000,
an advance for my
novel The Button Man.
It's classic.
They're making a movie,
a movie of my life.
Excuse me?
They're making a movie.
Someone, behind the wall.
They are?
Who in living hell would want to
make a movie about your life?
That would be one boring,
redundant, piece of shit movie.
Here you go.
You have to take
it outside, Eric.
Oh, what a pleasant
surprise. Thank you.
You're welcome.
Dawn of a new day.
I like that.
I'm going to write
a poem about you, Dawn.
You are too sweet.
Cheers.
Cheers.
Dawn. Sawn...
(MUTTERS INDISTINCTLY)
(GRUNTING)
NICK: He's seen this before.
Bums sprawled out from drinking.
But he has never actually
stood over the blowers,
let the hot air
seep into his clothes.
The air is sucked
out of the library.
Even on the coldest nights
there is too much heat inside.
It's another prison,
these blowers.
Because once you have landed,
you can't leave.
Because one step off the blower
is cold, hypothermia cold,
now that you are
sodden with steam.
The blower is a room
of heat with no walls.
My father is an invisible
man, in an invisible room,
in the invisible city.
Whoo!
I really appreciate
the help, sir.
Call me Carlos.
Okay. Carlos.
So, Jerry, how many nights
have you been homeless?
Just one night. One bad
night with the wife, boy.
That is all it takes,
one bad night.
You got that right.
What is up, Nick?
MAN: For the new guys,
no bottles or weapons, okay?
All right, you're good.
Stretch your arms out for me, sir.
Please? Thank you.
All right.
Step up.
I'd like a room
for the evening.
You want a bed?
That'll do for now.
Well, this is
a pleasant surprise.
So, you're
employed here now?
Yes, I'm employed here.
Well, I approve. We are put on
this Earth to help other people.
You must be gathering
some excellent material.
MAN: Hey. You giving
out tickets, or what?
Many thanks.
And if a private room does
open up, I'd be grateful.
Hey, what's up?
My father is here.
What?
My father, he's here.
He's staying here,
he is a guest tonight.
Jesus.
CARLOS: Oh, shit.
Your dad is sleeping here.
Your own father.
Nick, man, you are
the unluckiest guy I know.
Thanks, Carlos. Just keep it
to yourself, man. Please?
No worries.
Hey, Nick. You feel
like going home tonight?
No. Why?
Because your
father is here.
So you heard
about that.
Yeah.
Who else knows?
We are with you, man.
Fucking Carlos.
Maybe you could take the night off.
You know, I can get a fill-in.
No.
It's my job.
I work here.
Let's go.
Come with me.
Bottom bunk.
JONATHAN: Nicholas.
Interesting view.
I thought you were staying
at a friend's place?
A couple of things
fell through.
I was bunking in
my cab for a while,
but that is no
longer possible.
So I have been
sleeping alfresco.
Alfresco? You mean outside?
For how long?
Three weeks or so.
Don't look so grave. This is
a great opportunity for me.
What opportunity?
The opportunity
to freeze to death?
The opportunity to see
how the other half lives.
The poor, the downtrodden.
I'm doing the same thing here
as you are, gathering material.
No, I'm not gathering material.
This is my life.
Life is gathering material.
I like that. Help me
remember that.
They won't even let me bring
a goddamned pen up here.
Can't you do
anything about that?
No. Don't you have any
clout around here?
Sorry.
Well, anyway, my writing is going
extremely well, by the by.
I'm already almost done with
my revisions to Chapter 37.
Perhaps I'll let you read it someday.
It's classic.
Okay, look, you can't stay here.
Why not?
Because I work here.
Well, don't worry. This is only
a very temporary situation.
I don't want to disrupt
your life in the least.
I have a friend of mine who's
begging me to move down to Florida.
He has a guest house
and a job there for me.
Okay. Florida,
that sounds great.
In the meantime,
this is an excellent
opportunity for
you and I to make
up for lost time.
Destiny has brought us together
for one fleeting moment.
Let us not spit
in its eye.
IVAN: Thank you
again, man.
And you know, let me know if
that shit don't work out.
Let me know, all right?
MAN: Okay.
We'll see you.
All right.
I mean, you could ask him
to stay here for a few days.
No, he can't.
I don't even know if
the Florida thing is real.
I hope so,
for your sake.
Just weed, right?
Excuse me?
You're only
selling weed, right?
Yeah, just weed.
I'm just saying,
he's your father.
Uh...
I've had father figures.
All right, Nick! Keep
your eye on the ball.
They were all burned up.
It's amazing what can happen
to the human body, Nick.
Hey! What the hell
are you showing him?
Hey, sweetie.
What the fuck, Travis?
Pick that up! Come on,
I want to talk to you.
I thought he was a little
young to be driving a car.
You could have killed
yourself. Get inside!
Thank you very much.
You're welcome.
Have a good day.
You, too.
My mom had a lot of different
boyfriends, growing up.
Come on, buddy.
Good job.
But I never had a father.
Luckily, I had a mother.
Hey, who you
playing ball with?
Nobody. Myself.
Get your mitt.
Honey, I'm exhausted.
Okay.
All right.
Let me get my mitt.
Heads up!
Good one.
Thanks.
I'll be right back.
Okay.
You are not listening to me.
I'm listening.
He stole $30 from me!
I understand that.
Hey, Nick!
Jonathan asked me to
give this letter to you, man.
So he's some kind
of famous writer?
Yeah, that's why he's
staying at Harbor Street.
JONATHAN: Dear Nick, many deep
thanks for your warm welcome.
I must say you
seemed anxious.
Of course, writers,
especially poets,
are particularly
prone to madness.
Hey, babe.
Okay.
There exists
a striking association
between creativity
and manic depression.
The only important thing, though,
is to simply do the work.
It's not a sharp pain, it's a dull pain.
I haven't eaten in two days.
Hey, straight through
the back, down the stairs.
JONATHAN: Most
of these guys here are
a bunch of fucking deadbeat
panhandlers and pederasts.
These perverts, they wouldn't
last a second in federal prison.
They are all homosexuals. I despise
homosexuals, and they despise me.
I know what I'm talking about.
I talk the straight talk.
I wasn't locked up in federal
prison with choirboys,
that's for sure.
JODY: Next, please.
Thank you.
Hey.
Hi.
See this?
Uh-huh.
Don't ever become
a writer.
Just around the corner to the
right, follow the hallway.
You know where to go.
Jesus. Hey, what
happened to you?
I'm fine.
You're fine? You should
get to the clinic.
You should see the other cocksuckers.
This is nothing.
By the way, I have a
little gift for you.
From one writer
to another.
Is there a tailor here?
No.
I'm going to need
a new coat.
Okay.
All right, so
I won't be there.
But I'll get there
next time, okay?
All right.
Hey.
You are not just
selling weed, right?
Watch your hands.
Watch your hands.
Why should
a truly great writer
be subjected to these
fucking indignities?
There we go.
JONATHAN: What are you doing?
That's my property.
Come on,
get out of here.
That's my property.
That's my property.
Fucking homo.
Calm down.
Calm down, now.
I'm going to transform
this cesspool of a world.
I'm going to transform
it with a fucking word!
You know, he is
not going anywhere.
It's been weeks.
What do you suggest
I do about it?
Get a job
somewhere else?
Hey,
you want to do
some blow?
Um...
I despise blow.
Turns people into
fucking scumbags.
But you go ahead
if you want to.
GABRIEL: 12:30, Floyd Perkins
reports physical altercation.
Report completed.
gets permission to sign out.
was caught
trying to smuggle
a bottle in tonight.
At first he was abusive, but he
calmed down and was given a warning.
He wasn't put
out for the night?
It's cold out there, man.
He asked me to
give a letter to you.
JONATHAN: Nick,
I thought last evening
at Harbor Street,
waiting for 8:00 p.m.
To come...
I thought if your very
beautiful mother were alive,
and if she could
somehow see this scene,
her son at work and
his father a resident
at Harbor Street
shelter for the homeless.
The beaten, the sad, the
losers in life's great game.
Jody would have laughed loudly
at the entire macabre scene.
She was the most beautiful
woman in the world.
She was the love
of my life.
The light of my love.
If she were here today,
she would be with me now.
What happened
to my face?
I'm only 28 years old.
Why do I look like this?
Excuse me?
What happened to me?
What happened!
What have you done to me?
What have you done to me?
COUNSELOR: He kept shouting at
me that he was 28 years old,
and it just... It kind of
freaked me out, and I just...
What are you
looking at?
Nothing.
I'm sorry.
Don't be sorry.
Sorry for what?
That it freaked you out?
It's nothing.
Wait until you have
been here a few months.
Easy, Nick.
Take it easy.
I am taking it easy.
This isn't me
we are talking about.
CAPTAIN: No, it's not.
Go ahead.
away in the gym from overflow.
Did you read
my last letter?
Yes.
Beautifully written,
wasn't it?
Don't write to me about
my fucking mother.
Your fucking mother?
Your fucking mother? How dare
you refer to her that way.
How dare you say,
"How dare you," to me.
Well, let me rephrase it. Don't
fucking write to me about my mother.
It only makes you sound childish
using profanity like that.
Sorry, you don't get
to patronize me. Okay?
You don't get to
pretend to be my father
and you don't get to
write about my mother.
In fact, stop writing
me at all.
Stop writing me letters.
You should save them.
They'll be worth
money someday.
I have saved them,
actually.
I have over 100.
That's enough.
You saved them. Good.
You bring liquor in here again,
you are barred. End of story.
Eano the Beano tells me
you are into drugs.
Who the fuck is Eano the Beano?
How would he know that?
Everybody knows,
the word is out.
You know, if so,
good luck to you.
But don't waste
your talent.
I don't have any talent.
I find that
hard to believe.
Why? Because you're
so incredibly talented?
Yes.
Okay, so where is it?
The masterpiece.
Where are you hiding it?
Can I read it?
Does it even exist?
Do you exist,
Nicholas Flynn?
Do you even know?
I, Jonathan Flynn, exist!
I know that much.
Jonathan Flynn exists!
MAN: Shut the fuck up!
You shut the fuck up,
or my son will evict you!
I want you to leave here.
Find some fucking place,
some old drinking buddy who is
suicidal enough to take you in.
I'm a sought-after
house guest.
Yeah, because you're an
excellent raconteur. Right?
Yes!
Good night!
Remember something, Nicholas.
You are me!
You are me!
I made you!
(MEN CLAMORING)
You are me!
I am not you!
I am not you!
Yes, you are!
Go to Florida!
You are me!
(MEN CLAMORING)
MAN: Shut the fuck up!
Everybody, shut the fuck up!
Night.
NICK: I asked to fill in
on the outreach van.
I can't stand to
be in the shelter
where my drunken jack-in-the-box
can appear at any moment.
Hey, you are the guy whose father
is a guest here, aren't you?
No. That guy is
just a drunk.
A con man, he has
nothing to do with me.
Yeah. No, of course not.
Okay, we're ready.
Yeah.
Okay.
The hours are 9:00 at night
until 5:00 in the morning.
Hi, I got a
sandwich for you.
Hey, excuse me,
sir, sorry to wake you.
I got a sandwich here.
You want to get inside?
(BOTTLE SHATTERS)
"Jonathan Flynn responded to a guest's
request that he share a can of deodorant
"with an intense
verbal assault towards
"the other guest on
racial and sexual themes.
"Mr. Flynn would not respond
to intervention.
"In fact, he accelerated
his verbal assault. "
Are you okay?
Yeah.
Jonathan's a little
out of control tonight.
"The SPO, Chris,
Gabriel, and Brian,
"escorted Mr. Flynn to the brown
lobby wrapped in a sheet,
"as he had refused
to dress himself. "
...my vision, The Confessions
of Christopher Cobb.
My father rants... "In the
beginning was the Word."
Salinger, Twain...
... piss on the floor unnoticed.
...Jonathan Robinson Flynn.
I was brought into this world
to help other people.
Ignored.
I was brought into this world to write
my masterpiece, and it's written!
We all need to
create the story
that will make
sense of our lives.
I stood behind the priest
and held his robe...
Make sense of
our daily tasks.
...as he put
the host on each tongue.
All the little girls lined up.
Their tongues out.
Yet each night, the doubts
return, howling through him.
(SHOUTING IN MOCK LATIN)
Suck-o my cock-o!
You! You!
Where is your faith?
Where is your faith? Without
faith you are nothing!
You are nothing!
Nothing!
Nothing!
You are nothing!
(MUSIC PLAYING)
Nick.
I'm heading out.
Okay.
Why?
Because you are drunk
and I have to work tomorrow.
So do you.
I'm not drunk.
You're not going
to stay over?
I'm going home.
I think,
after what happened today, maybe
you shouldn't be drinking.
What happened today?
The vote.
Jon has created
problems in housing.
He is not getting
any better.
He is only getting worse.
I think it's time that we
vote on whether to bar him.
I'm sorry, I don't think
we should bar Jonathan.
I agree.
We will vote on it.
Well, what day
isn't fucked up?
Right?
Do you want to
get out of here?
Sleep at my place?
Uh, no.
You go ahead.
I will see you tomorrow.
Okay?
All right.
Who votes to let Jonathan
continue to stay here?
It's freezing outside. We
can't just put him out there.
Nick.
Hey.
Yeah?
I think you need
to get some help.
What?
You need some help.
NICK: Need help?
What?
Need help?
Nah, it wasn't your friends
who trashed the place.
Have you seen
my notebook?
No.
Fuck.
I got to hand in
an assignment.
Will you let me
know if you find it?
If it were up your ass...
I'd know where it was.
Can I have a hit?
Smoke crack before?
No.
Don't. I haven't left
the pipe for three days.
JODY: Nick, I read
your short story.
I'm sorry I read it, I don't
mean to intrude on your privacy.
I have to tell you, you have
always been so perceptive,
since you were a child.
NICK: Mom?
What's wrong?
Do you miss him?
What?
No. Of course not.
The only person I give a damn
about is sitting right here.
So then why
are you crying?
I'm not.
I'm not crying.
Are you going to
finish that?
This?
Um...
This ice cream?
Am I going to eat it?
No.
Thanks.
JODY: I went
to the beach,
but I was unable to
throw myself in the ocean.
I did the best I could.
I tried to hold
it all together.
I love you
and I love my dad.
Come on, you're good.
Right up the steps.
All right, Jonathan, you can't come in here.
You have been banned.
I've been banned?
Yes, for two months.
Who banned me?
It doesn't matter,
you have been banned.
I have been banned?
Yes, you have
been banned.
Does my son
know about this?
Yes, he knows about it.
Where is he? It doesn't
matter, you have to go.
Father murderer, where are you?
I need you to leave.
Nicholas! Where are you?
Come on.
Father murderer!
Father murderer!
Where are you?
Come on, guys, clear out.
Come out!
Come out and face me!
What are you doing? What are you doing?
Father murderer!
Jonathan.
Come out! Come out!
Where are you hiding?
In some little closet,
sucking your mama's tit,
father murderer?
I could have jerked...
I could have jerked off
and flushed you
down the toilet.
Father murderer,
come out and face me!
Outside!
Face me,
you father murderer!
Face me!
Out the door, man!
(GROANS)
Hey.
Hey.
Look, Nick.
We're done.
Excuse me?
We're done.
You look really fucked
up, by the way.
I wouldn't let Captain
see you like that.
Wait. Wait a minute.
Wait, don't just say
that and walk away.
Talk to me.
I had a brother
who was an addict,
my baby brother.
You never told me that.
So, I can't be around it.
Not again.
Look, I'm not...
You're not?
You're not what?
Not my father.
Do you think
I'm my father?
I don't care.
I have to go to work.
Hey, so is your
brother okay now?
Goodbye, Nick.
JONATHAN: If there is one thing I
can't stomach, it's self-pity.
DRIVER: You,
and you over there.
I work for
the slave traders.
Get your rapid refund.
I'm a human billboard.
Get your fucking
rapid refund.
I sell my blood, type O.
I haven't eaten
in three days.
And so it goes.
Valuable blood.
It's frostbite
fucking cold out here.
I'm losing my left toes due to not
taking my shoes off at night.
It's all going
in the book.
My masterpiece,
Memoirs of a Moron.
Are we inside
now, or out?
There is no inside,
no outside.
I have to go
to the bathroom.
No container,
no contained.
What's up, old man?
No birth.
What you drinking,
anything good?
Got anything for me?
What? What?
You think you are so fucking tough, huh?
Come here!
No death.
It's a frigging riddle.
Hey, welcome. My name is
Joey, and I'm an addict.
MAN: Hi, there.
WOMAN: Hey, Joey.
JOEY: It's good to see
everybody here today.
And it's really good I'm
seeing a number of new faces.
Actually about
four or five of you.
It's always good to see new
people coming into the room.
At this time,
I'd like to let you know
that we do have free coffee
and cookies over there.
And I can testify about the
goodness of the cookies.
I baked them myself,
they are fantastic.
(ALL CHUCKLE)
At this time, if you
have something
maybe that you
want to talk about,
something you want
to get off your chest,
go ahead and raise your hand.
We would love to hear from you.
I was 11 when I got high
for the first time,
and it felt like
I was home.
Well, I woke up
one morning in Paris.
It took me a while to figure
out that I was in Paris.
And I had completely
forgotten that I had
flown a 747 full of
people the night before.
I was out of the hospital
no more than three weeks.
And I stayed over
my mother's house.
I couldn't take
it anymore.
I doused my hand with lighter
fluid and lit it on fire
just to get the morphine.
Go figure.
(HYPERVENTILATING)
Psst.
MARIE: I saw your
father the other day.
He didn't look so good.
You know my father?
He is a hard guy
not to know.
Thank you.
Your old man
doesn't look good.
Someone should
get him inside.
Well, you should
get inside.
We can get you
in somewhere.
He sleeps in the
parking garage, right?
Barlow's garage?
Don't know.
The other day Barlow and Ron
were giving him a hard time.
Barlow killed a guy,
They shouldn't
have let him out.
A guy like that.
Barlow and Ron
lure your old man upstairs...
BARLOW: Hey, buddy.
... to the top floor.
Let's have a drink.
You want to have
a drink with us?
Said they have a bottle.
When they get to the top,
they grab him and hold him
over the edge, upside down.
I told you not to come around here no more.
This is Barlow's garage.
This is my garage, bitch!
He didn't drop him?
Said next time
he'll drop him.
He's a freaking psycho,
Barlow.
The manager kicks you out
of this place at 9:15.
The sign on the door says
it doesn't close until 9:30.
How can he do that?
Is that legal?
JEFF: You might want to
close that window.
Last week a rat
jumped into the van.
Hey.
(EXCLAIMS)
Moses! Moses!
Hi, Moses.
It's okay.
It's Nick,
from Harbor Street.
You need anything?
You want to get
in out of the cold?
Hey, you haven't seen
Jonathan, have you?
No, not for weeks.
Thank God.
(TOILET FLUSHING)
You have to
take it outside.
Hey, welcome. My name is
Joey, and I'm an addict.
ALL: Hi, Joey.
What the fuck are you doing here?
Standing like some ghoul.
You're lucky I realized it was you.
Otherwise, bamo!
Right. Bamo.
Are you here in your
professional capacity?
Scooping up bodies
from the filthy streets
to carry them to
the Harbor Street palace?
A haven for homos?
I'm working tonight, yes.
Come on.
Come on, what?
Come on, it's freezing
out here tonight.
Freezing?
I don't feel it.
So, they have come to me with their
tails between their legs, huh?
You know what I say?
Fuck them.
Fuck them.
Up yours, Harbor Street.
You are still barred
from Harbor Street.
I think I have
been here before.
Yeah, I was mugged here once by a
bunch of mother-raping drug addicts.
Thanks, Jeff.
Good luck.
Christ, don't tell me
you live here.
A fucking hellhole.
I'll have a vodka
screwdriver, please.
There is no liquor here.
No vodka?
No vodka.
No vodka.
Fine, it's
evil shit anyway.
You know, I'm putting
some money aside.
I'm going to get my
life back together.
I got a friend
in Florida.
He's got a job and an apartment, they're
waiting for me in St. Petersburg.
Right.
You don't believe me,
do you?
No.
No.
That's a terrible
thing to say,
you don't believe
your own father.
I'm going upstairs,
go to bed.
My roommates are
away for the weekend.
You will be unbarred
in a few days,
so you can stay
here for a bit.
Until you go back
to Harbor Street...
Oh, no, I'm never going back
to that fucking place.
Never.
Oh, no.
Oh, no.
Hey, don't drink
in here.
You know, I have been thinking
about your beautiful mother
and her non-accident.
And I have been thinking, why
would she do something like that?
Ah!
Do you want a drink?
No.
Oh, right. You prefer
the other stuff.
I think I have
a problem with both.
A problem?
Oh, I feel for you.
It must be problematic.
The night she did it,
she read something I wrote.
A story, she thought
it was about her.
Was it?
Yes.
It was about a woman
who works two jobs
and tries to fit in
a couple of hours
between each to
be with her kid.
She works as a bank teller.
She works as a waitress.
She comes home and
waits on the kid.
I wasn't finished
with the story.
I was going to write
how the kid appreciated it,
whatever time
she had for him.
He didn't think
she was a bad mother.
And he loved her.
She was all he had.
I didn't write that part.
I didn't get that far.
So that's
the story you tell
of why your mother
killed herself.
I haven't told it
to anyone.
You tell it to yourself.
Those are the best stories.
It's a good yarn.
There is only one
part that's horseshit.
No one kills themselves
because they read a story.
I don't care how
good a writer you are,
you can't kill
someone with words.
I have a theory.
The reason people
commit suicide
is because they
don't like themselves.
Self-hatred.
I think it's a very reasonable
explanation. Don't you?
Self-hatred?
You're familiar
with the concept?
Yes.
Of course,
maybe the question isn't why she
killed herself when she did,
but why she chose to stick
around as long as she did.
Anyway, my writing is
going extremely well.
The book's classic.
And to answer your previous
question, it does exist.
As do you.
Why?
Because of me.
Because I made you.
I'm going to go to sleep.
The blanket's on the couch.
(DOOR SHUTS)
Hey!
Hey! Hold on!
Hey.
What are you doing?
Where you going?
Where am I going? I'm going
to my suite at The Ritz.
They are holding one for me just in
case I ever want to drop by and use it.
I gotta get going. I'll be
late for the slave traders,
all the jobs
will be taken.
Well, are you coming back?
Coming back where?
Here.
Out of curiosity,
why have you not ever asked
me to stay with you before?
I thought if you try and save a
drowning man you might go down, too.
A drowning man?
A drowning man?
I'm not a drowning man.
I'm a survivor!
An artist!
I'm not going to
die out here!
I'm not your poor sensitive mother!
I'm a survivor!
And you know what?
Luckily for you, you are my
son, so you are one, too!
You are not your mother and you
are not me, Nicholas Flynn!
I absolve you!
You are not me. I made
you, but you are not me!
I'll see you again.
Yeah.
NICK: A few months after
that I left Harbor Street.
Yo, it's the man.
I'll see you later, man.
All right.
Be good.
Yeah.
All right.
Hey.
Hey.
I'm taking off.
Yeah, I heard.
Thanks.
For what?
For nothing.
For the swift
kick in the ass.
You're welcome.
No more Harbor
Street, huh?
I guess not.
What about you, you gonna
stay here for a while?
Yeah. I'm not done yet.
I just wanted
to say I'm sorry.
For what?
About your brother.
Oh.
Thank you.
Take care of yourself.
You, too.
NICK: I go back
to school,
finish my undergraduate
degree, get my diploma.
I take a poetry workshop.
I work in Harlem and Crown Heights
and the South Bronx, teaching.
In some schools, half the kids
I work with live in shelters.
So, when Lucille Clifton says, "Her
eyes are animals," what is that?
STUDENTS: An image.
An image.
Good, but what
kind of image?
STUDENTS: A metaphor.
A metaphor.
And what do you think she is
trying to say about her eyes?
My father's letters
follow me.
JONATHAN: Nicky Nu-nu,
you will be happy to know
my writing is doing
extraordinarily well.
Soon, very soon,
I shall be known.
NICK: Within a year,
Jonathan qualifies for
an apartment, Section
Unbeknownst to me,
some strings have been
pulled by people I
once worked with.
JONATHAN: Yeah?
It's Nick.
Nick who?
Nicky Nu-nu.
Oh.
Nicky Nu-nu.
Just want to
make sure it's you.
You never know what lurks
in this neighborhood.
How are you?
Shake my hand properly.
Give me a firm handshake.
That's better.
Don't break it.
You're dressed,
that's good.
Well, the place is nice.
JONATHAN: Yeah.
This is my
little paradise.
My little oasis.
My little home away from
my little home.
Well, I'm impressed.
I'm very tranquil,
I'm peaceful...
NICK: Pretty soon he launches into
a familiar flurry of hate speech.
...young girls being raped,
day and night,
by these bastards,
these pederasts,
these fucking priests, these
cretins, these homos.
Believe me,
I know all about it.
I wasn't locked up in federal
prison with choirboys, kiddo.
Interstate transportation
of stolen securities,
that was the charge.
The checking business brought to
you by the great Dippity-Do Doyle.
If I didn't do what he said, he would
have killed you and your mother.
Believe me, kiddo.
I have trouble focusing,
I consider leaving quickly,
but I will myself to stay.
My job was to enter the banks
and open an account.
I was the only one
able to finesse my way in.
The secret? The secret?
Always go to
a female teller.
A black? Forget about the fucking blacks.
Low fucking morale.
Go to them? I couldn't get on fucking
first base with a black teller.
It's early in the month, so he hasn't
gone through his disability check yet.
This means he
has been drinking.
...good Russian vodka.
Not that rotgut crap.
Want some?
Uh, no thanks.
New teeth?
Huh?
You got some new teeth.
Yep.
Courtesy of Uncle Sam.
Best dentist in the world.
Looks nice.
Here, I brought you something.
What the hell is this?
It's a book of poems.
Poems.
I wrote it.
Actually, it's
getting an award.
An award, from whom?
From Penn.
Penn.
Are they giving
you a pen?
Is it dedicated to me?
No.
No?
Am I in it?
There are some poems
that refer to you.
Oh. Let's see.
"I'll bend each finger back
Until the bottle falls
"Until the bone snaps
"Save him by
destroying his hands"
Do I detect
a touch of hostility?
I'm doing a reading of it
tonight at a book store.
You can come,
if you would like to.
All right, all right.
I'm going to
let you read it.
Your book?
Yeah, The Button Man,
also known as The Confessions
of Christopher Cobb.
You mean
it actually exists?
Of course it exists.
Where the fuck is it?
It's somewhere here.
Give me a hand here, look in these boxes.
Look for a blue folder.
I think I may have it here.
Yeah. This is it.
Here it is, part one.
This is part one?
How many parts are there?
"Clink, clank, clunk.
I think that I am drunk."
Don't read it here, for Christ's sake.
That part's a musical.
I will read it right away
and get it back to you.
Don't steal anything.
I promise.
NICK: I read his book
in one afternoon.
JONATHAN:
It's a masterpiece.
I read your poems.
That one about
the gun is heavy.
Of course it's
an inherited quality.
If you didn't write well,
I would be surprised.
For 30 pages
it shows promise.
Then like his life,
it soon falls apart
and dissipates
into incoherence.
His manuscript
is incomplete.
As far as I can tell,
the only completed
book about my father
would be the book that
fell to me to write.
Me, my father's un-credited,
uncompliant ghost writer.
I've been in touch
with Little, Brown.
They are doing my book. Four
million dollars in advance.
Little, Brown said my
book's a masterpiece.
Everything I write
is a masterpiece.
"The eyes of the action
hero cut from the poster
"All that
concrete pressing down
"A fine edge
gleams around your body
"As if it could
be contained
"The way each finger is licked,
dipped in and rubbed across the gums
"Until the teeth go away
"Even my hands kiss you
"A night broken down
into grains
"If you find
yourself lost, dig
"A cave in the snow, quickly
"You need shelter
against the night
"A candle could
keep you alive
"The engine of your lungs
will heat the air around you
"Someone will miss you
"They will send out dogs
"You must be somewhere,
right?"
Thank you.
There you go.
Thanks.
Thanks for coming.
Hey.
Hey.
Uh, he's here.
Jonathan, this is Inez.
Inez, this is Jonathan.
A very great pleasure.
It's good to meet you.
And this is Maeve,
your granddaughter.
Would you like
to hold her?
Uh, that's okay.
No, he can hold her.
I have held babies
before, Nicholas.
See?
(CRYING)
See?
(CRYING)
See?
See?
See?
Yeah, I see.
JONATHAN: All right,
Nicholas, you can have it.
I bequeath it to you.
You have the last word.