I believe in the mystery of life,
in the force of love and infidelity
and in the painful unpredictability
of our actions. Max Frisch
- How old?
- How old do you want me to be?
- How much?
- 120.
Get in.
- You don't look like a hooker.
- What do they look like?
Different.
What?
I can barely hear you...
Shit.
Shall I take my clothes off?
- Stop talking like a hooker.
- I am a hooker.
No. You're not.
I don't drink alcohol.
- I think you need money.
- Who doesn't?
That's not what I mean.
You have a problem
and for whatever reason you
decided to hustle for the money.
- You got me figured out.
- Not really.
- Maybe I can help you.
- I don't need your help.
- Sure? - I would never accept
help from clients.
- Do I look like a client?
- Yes.
- You have no clue.
- Why do you pick up hookers?
I don't, it was the first time
and once won't hurt.
What's your name?
And please don't tell me
Angelique or Felicitas.
Anja.
- Okay, Anja, what's your problem?
- I don't have a problem.
So?
What?
Are you going to tell me,
why you hustle?
I wanted to know what
it's like to fuck a stranger.
I liked the idea of it
and I wanted to try.
So what's it like?
You're my first one.
W Pm
Fine, and yourself?
Tell me, I've got time.
What?
How did that happen?
You're kidding.
Sure, come over.
- Where were we?
- There's a dead cat.
Shit, I totally forgot.
Poor cat ran into my car
last night
and I had to cut it out of
the grille.
I'll bury it in the yard tomorrow.
Let's get started, shall we?
Come here.
Closer.
Strip.
Come on.
Go on.
I have to say, it's
a convenient outfit.
Easy handling. It's all there
in a flash...
It bothers me when women smell bad.
Cheap perfume says a lot about
one's personality, don't you agree?
If you ask me, too sweet
and too heavy.
An old ladies' perfume.
'Allure' by Chanel, right?
Nice T-shirt.
You can keep it if you want.
Can I have something to drink?
- What would you like?
- What do you have?
Whatever you want.
- Then I'd go for gin tonic.
- I thought you don't drink alcohol.
With or without ice?
Doesn't matter.
Not easy, isn't it?
The job that seemed like
a piece of cake,
turns out to be a back-breaker.
I have great respect for hookers.
It's hard-earned money.
But who would know better
than you.
No reason to be disappointed.
I knew you weren't a hooker.
And now you know it, too.
- Fate or coincidence?
- What?
You believe in fate or
coincidence?
No idea. Some things are
predeterminated, others aren't.
I hit on you, was that
fate or coincidence?
What do I know? Coincidence.
Fate.
Whatever.
It was scratching the whole time.
- I messed up.
- What?
Well... this whole thing.
- Are you mad?
- Should I be mad?
Don't know...
- You didn't get the fun you paid for.
- It's okay, I got a refund.
This place is awesome and so huge.
And those things...
- You like the sculptures?
- Totally.
- Is it your work?
- Don't touch!
I also want to go into art when
I'm done.
- With what?
- School.
- School? How old are you?
- You asked that before.
I'm going to night school to get
my diploma.
No.
Afterward s I want to do
something creative.
- Good!
- You don't believe me.
- I do.
- You're making fun of me.
- Not at all.
- Where are you going?
I have to take a leak.
- Leaving already?
- I'm fed up.
Too bad. We were just clicking.
- Didn't you forget something?
- No, I have everything on me.
- You did forget something.
- What?
- To say good-bye.
- Bye. Can I go now?
- What's wrong?
- It's not working out that way.
- Don't fuck with me.
- I don't, I want to leave.
- My wallet.
- Which wallet?
- So you do want to fuck with me.
- You got your money back.
Hey, let go!
You're hurting me!
Fine. So you got it back.
Can I go now?
- What were you thinking?
- Are you gonna be a wise ass now?
And stop looking at me this way.
Hello, my name is Richter. There's
a burglar in my apartment.
Exactly.
Raumerstrasse 7.
How long will it take?
No problem, I'll wait.
Think I'm scared of cops?
Look... We have company.
Stop it. That's disgusting.
I'll let him walk around, okay?
What's this?
- May I have a look?
- No, you don't.
The contents of a purse says a lot
about a woman's character.
In your case it's pure curiosity.
Lipstick.
A sample of... 'Allure'.
- Stop it!
- Very responsible.
- Can't be too careful.
- Fuck yourself.
Is this mace?
I used to have the same cellphone.
Had to recharge it every day.
Very annoying.
That's all?
Not very exciting.
How about... we put some
nice things inside?
For example... ten grams of coke.
Excellent stuff. Goes off like
a rocket. It really kicks ass.
- Quit it.
- And while we're at it...
Let's add some lovely E's...
and a wonderful piece
to calm down.
Looks much better already.
The cops will think that you
are a dealer.
Looks like you'll be spending the next
four years in a nice woman's jail.
Which is not as much fun as
the one on TV show.
I can picture it. The sisters there
will be crazy about you.
I just read about a new girl being
raped for hours with a toilet brush.
She hanged herself after a week.
But... you dig new experiences.
Cheer up.
Four years will fly by
and you'll be back on the streets.
At least you'll have four years
of work experience.
It's opening new horizons.
- I don't envy you.
- Please untie me.
If I were you, I'd start praying.
I'll do anything you want.
- Anything?
- I'll make up for it.
Sounds tempting...
But I can't do it.
You know why?
- You weren't very nice to me.
- But I apologized.
I pick you up, give you money,
talk to you.
And you?
You steal my purse and try
to fool me.
- What do you want?
- What I want?
You really want to know?
Are you familiar with the story
of the "Arabian Nights"?
Yes. No, not really.
Then prick up your ears.
Once upon a time there was a king.
His name was Shahryar.
One day he caught his wife in bed
with his kitchen servant.
She begged for mercy, but he
had her beheaded.
From then on the king was afraid that
all his wives would cheat on him.
Absurd, isn't it?
Big problem, but the solution
was obvious.
He asked the vizier,
his personal servant,
to bring him a virgin every night.
The next morning the ex-virgin's
head was cut off.
This went on for months
until the vizier had
trouble finding
new virgins for the king
and feared for his life.
But then the vizier's daughter
offered herself to the king.
The daughter's name was
Scheherazade.
Are you listening?
After the king took her virginity
she asked to tell a story.
He agreed and she narrated the
story of the Merchant and the Demon.
At first the king barely listened,
but the story grew ever
more exciting.
The smart girl didn't finish that
night and as morning broke,
the king was forced
to postpone her execution.
She continued the following night,
but she wove a second story into the
first and a third one into the second.
Again she left the end of
the story untold.
This went on for 1.001 nights.
Telling these stories,
the girl fought for her life.
As one day the story
finally came to an end,
she'd born many children
to the king.
And he had abandoned the idea of
killing the mother of his children.
Scheherazade told stories
for 1.001 nights.
You just have to tell me a story
for one night, and I'll let you go.
- I don't know any stories
- Make one up.
- I can't.
- You just aren't trying hard enough.
- Tell me about you.
- There's nothing to tell.
Than tell me about your parents.
Where do they live?
What do they do?
Do they have a dog?
While you are wasting time,
the cops are on their way.
So if you don't make up
a story right now,
you'll have a lot of time behind
bars to think of a story.
A young woman on vacation
had an affair with a Moroccan.
Back home she realized
she was pregnant.
She had a girl and named her Lilly.
Lilly was deaf in one ear.
When she was ten months old,
her mom took the baby
to her grandparents
and went looking for Lilly's
dad in Morocco.
Three weeks later they received
a letter,
that contained only one sentence:
'I won't be coming back,
please take care of Lilly'.
That was it.
That was all she wrote.
The first few years at
her grandparents' were fun.
They lived on a farm, with cows,
sheep, pigs and so on.
But when Lilly entered school,
the trouble began.
Because Lilly was deaf in one ear,
the other kids teased her constantly.
She heard only half of everything: of
the insults as well as of the lessons.
She couldn't follow the class
and the teacher didn't care.
They suspended Lilly from her
favorite subjects: music and gym.
Frustrated, she sat in
her room for hours,
watched the other kids playing
from her window.
Later...
she started hanging out
with older boys.
She smoked pot at 13.
At the age of 15 she took acid
at a party in the parish hall.
As she began tripping, she
thought she'd lose her mind.
The room began to float,
change colors and spin.
She was about to faint.
So she lay down and closed her eyes.
And?
She was awakened
by an intense pain
and stared into a boy's face.
He was lying on top of her,
squeezing her breasts with his hands.
She tried to scream,
but no sound came out.
She tried to push the boy off, but
he was holding her arms down.
When he finally let go and
she thought it was over,
the next one climbed on.
Eight or nine guys raped her.
She lost consciousness, and when she
woke up, she was lying in the street.
Her clothes were torn
and full of blood.
Continue...
- On one condition...
- What?
I'll continue on one condition.
I don't think you can
name conditions.
Then let's make a deal.
I finish the story and you
get the cops off my back.
- I don't know...
- It's a fair deal.
- You won't make any more trouble?
- I promise.
And? Do you agree?
Hello, my name is Richter.
I called earlier.
Yes, the burglary.
I thought you'd sent a car over.
Well, it's too late. He got away.
Through an open window.
No, thanks. I'm fine.
- Did you report these guys?
- Which guys?
- The rapists.
- It was just a story.
No. It was your story.
You wanted me to tell you a story.
- So you made that up?
- Maybe.
- It's like fate and coincidence.
- What do you mean?
A coincidental encounter can
become fateful.
There are no coincidences.
You know why?
Coincidence always finds
a prepared mind.
Think about it.
- That was mean.
- What?
- Putting the drugstore in my purse.
- You tried to steal from me.
No reason to palm that stuff
off on me.
Yummy. Dextrose.
You've been fooling me
the whole time?
No, not the whole time.
What about the cops?
- What about them?
- Did you call them or not?
And I totally fell for it.
- Police! Open up!
- It's for you.
- But I thought...
- Think again.
W Pm
- What's up?
- Can I come in?
No. I'm kind of busy.
Cool. I'll give you a call.
Where are you?
Vanished into thin air?
Either you stop hiding, or...
I sent the cops away.
What's wrong?
For a moment I thought...
What? Tell me.
I couldn't feel my heart beat.
As if everything were standing
still. Nothing was moving.
Something between
sleeping and dreaming.
First my heart stopped beating
and then your heart joined mine
and gave me a jump-start...
For a moment I was floating
through the room.
It was so out of reach,
so warm, so beautiful.
Bite me...
Harder.
- Will you hit me?
- No.
Come on, do it.
Come on.
More.
Is that the best you can do? Hit me
harder. It doesn't hurt. Come on!
Hey, what's the matter?
Stop that, will you.
What's wrong with you?
Aren't you gonna talk to me?
Okay, we won't talk, then.
Have I said or done anything?
If you don't tell me,
I can't apologize.
- I want my money now.
- Money? What do you mean?
- Don't try to screw me over.
- I don't understand.
Blow job and intercourse.
You owe me 120.
- You're not a hooker.
- Says who?
- Oh, here we go again...
- Hand me my money! Right now!
Why are you so mad?
Was it too quick for you?
No problem, I can fuck you again.
But don't give me an attitude.
- We had a deal.
- I had a deal with a hooker.
- You're no hooker, so we have no deal.
- You still don't get it, do you?
Your desire was to fuck a minor
who's scared of the big, bad world.
So I played the minor and you had good
sex. Correct? Now it's time to pay.
- I didn't want to screw a minor.
- No, you wanted to hit and rape her.
- Hitting was your idea.
- I suggested it and you carried it out.
- You insisted.
- You always do what you're told?
Admit it was your sick fantasy,
I could see it in your eyes.
It turned you on.
- I don't buy that.
- Your problem.
That's ridiculous!
You can't pull a show on me.
Men are so naive. You saw me
the way you wanted me to be.
Sorry if you're disappointed.
However, we did fuck,
and you owe me 120.
And in case you didn't know,
prostitution is a recognized profession,
I'm entitled to payment.
Dickhead.
Bad losers deserve sympathy.
The door's locked.
- You want to leave?
- No, I love standing around.
Why don't we eat something?
- I'm not hungry.
- We can talk.
- I don't know what about.
- Maybe I do.
I don't care. I want to
leave right now.
Got another date on the street?
Open the damn door.
- How many guys do you fuck a night?
- Piss off.
Are you a fun lay or a cheap fuck?
- You give discounts to regulars?
- Can I go now?
Come on, stay a little longer.
I'll pay YOU-
I don't want to have anything
to do with you.
Why not? We got along great.
Open the door.
Come on.
Stupid fucker.
Forgot something?
What is it?
Got you!
After sex, I could eat half a whale.
- You should be an actress.
- You think so?
Definitely.
I used to take acting in school.
We had this great acting teacher.
Smart and handsome.
I learned a lot from him.
Then this other chick caught us
making out in his car. The next
day the whole school knew.
- Three weeks later he got kicked out.
- Too bad.
The stupid bitch was just jealous
because I got all the leads
while she got only line-parts.
What's so funny?
I can imagine why you got all
the good parts.
- Forget it.
- I didn't say anything.
- I know what you're thinking.
- Do you?
Yeah, you think I got the good
parts because I slept with him.
- Is it true?
- Sure.
I fucked him and I was rewarded.
- Quite calculating.
- Quid pro quo.
That attitude will be a door-opener.
- You really think so?
- I'm positive.
Phew. I'm stuffed.
What's wrong? Is there
something on my face?
Nothing. I'm trying
to figure you out.
Why do all men try to understand
women. Just take us the way we are!
Mutual insight makes
communication easier.
I don't think so.
I don't care what someone thinks,
the way he was brought up,
if he went to college or lives on
welfare, or parties day in day out.
Most of all I hate those post-coital
questions. What are you thinking.
How many men you slept with.
As if it mattered how many I screwed.
Beside I don't give a damn about
most men. If I want something...
...you sleep with them.
No, sometimes I just give
them a blow job.
- Just kidding.
- Right.
- You don't have to laugh.
- I won't.
- Whatever happened to Lilly?
- Who?
- Lilly.
- Never heard of her, who's she?
Playing games again?
- What happened next?
- Wouldn't you love to know?
Curiosity is part of human nature.
Spare me those cheap lines.
- Where did I leave off?
- She was gang-raped.
You were paying attention,
very good.
Well, these guys were bragging to
everyone at school about fucking Lilly.
The assholes said Lilly
had encouraged them.
The girls called her a whore
and threw condoms at her.
They hung up photos of Lilly including
her number and one sentence:
'Who wants to fuck me?
Lilly just lost it. She didn't dare
leave the house, so she quit school
She stayed in her room for days,
listening to music and reading books.
Finally, she ran away from home
and got a job in town.
- Doing what?
- Lilly wanted to work for the theater.
Make-up artist was her dream job.
Therefore she had to learn
hairdressing: cutting,
doing highlights, perms,
all that other crap.
A stupid job.
But at least she got rid of all
the dickheads from school.
She also got a small flat
in a run-down house.
Her paycheck barely
covered the rent,
so she cleaned houses on
weekends and babysitted.
- Still, she was always broke.
- Cruel world.
No, people are just unable to
get their acts together.
One day Lilly discovered tons
of videotapes in the basement
left by the previous tenant.
Frustrated as she was,
she watched them all.
She particularly liked one French
film. I never saw this movie, I think.
It's about a woman who lets men
pick her up, steals their money
and runs off.
- Sounds familiar...
- It was called...
No, let me start again.
Lily was inspired by this film.
So she bought nice clothes,
had her make-up done
and went to an expensive hotel.
At the bar a guy started
talking to her.
After a while they went to his room.
As he started to grab her,
she told him to take a shower first.
Once he was in the bathroom,
she'd grab his wallet and run off.
Easy money.
And so simple. Lilly developed
a feel for these guys.
One look was enough.
She learned how to approach them
and how to rip them off.
She bought tons of clothes, make-up
stuff and different wigs.
She perfectly changed her appearance,
so nobody could recognize her.
For a while she was doing fine.
She even put some money aside for
a training to become a make-up artist.
However one day she met
this guy, who...
What's the matter?
I'd like to freshen up.
Can I come in?
Did you fall asleep?
Oh, shit! Oh, no!
Don't do this to me!
Shit!
Pick up the phone, goddamn it!
- Emergency center.
- Hello... I've got an emergency case.
A girlfriend... a friend
slit her wrist.
- When was it?
- A few minutes ago.
- And where?
- In the bathtub.
- Has she lost a lot of blood?
- Does that matter?!
Has the woman lost a lot of blood?
Hello?
Here, drink it.
Come on.
Almost finished.
One more sip.
Did you have a nice dream?
- What a night.
- Headache?
That, too. How are you?
Don't know. Not too bad.
I'm tired and cold.
- Where are my clothes?
- In the washing machine.
- Why?
- Just because.
What time did we go to bed?
I can't remember.
I'm not sure, either.
Oh, that's a good idea.
- You fainted.
- Really?
You don't remember?
What's the last thing
you remember?
Water. I remember water.
You were taking a bath.
- Right.
- And then?
Then...
I must have passed out. You know,
I have low blood pressure.
I used to collapse
in smoky clubs.
First my nose would start bleeding
and then I'd black out.
Did my nose bleed?
- Where did I faint?
- In the bathroom.
You must have panicked, huh?
No.
Most people don't know how to
react in such a case.
I once saw a guy having an
epileptic fit in the subway.
Everybody just stared at him.
I put my purse between his teeth
and held him down.
A few minutes later he was fine,
but he couldn't remember a thing.
Their memory just fails. It can take
hours before they remember anything.
After a while their brain slowly puts
the pieces together, like a puzzle.
- What's the matter?
- Just looking at you.
- You're making me blush.
- Really?
Here's something worth staring at.
Look what I found in the bathroom.
My lucky charm!
Are you sure I didn't
have a nosebleed?
- Weird.
- What?
- I have a weird feeling.
- Like what?
I'm trying to remember something,
but I can't get to find it.
- Think of something else.
- Something else?
- Continue with the story.
- What story?
- Lilly's story.
- I'm too tired.
Come on.
Don't keep me begging.
I know where you left off...
- No.
- What's wrong?
- It's so hard...
- Lilly conned these guys...
I know.
So, Lilly conned these guys, but
she started working carelessly.
Sometimes she did three in a row:
one hotel guest by day
and two at night.
Then she suddenly disappeared.
She stopped to show up at her
hairdresser job, didn't pay the rent
and quit calling
her grandparents.
So they reported her missing.
But the cops couldn't find her.
It's not unusual. More than
But most turn up again eventually.
The rumor spread that Lilly went to
Morocco to look for her mom.
She was missing for a year.
One day some kids playing in
the woods found a girl's corpse.
The autopsy proved it was Lilly.
She'd been beaten with a heavy
object and raped with a knife.
Some psycho slit her pussy open.
The police reopened the case,
showed photos of Lilly on TV,
but to no avail.
They never caught her murderer.
- Unbelievable.
- What?
The story.
Why?
It could almost be true. But
you said you made it up...
- I didn't.
- Yes, you did.
Because you were being
annoying to me.
So all this really happened?
Possible. Who knows.
Just tell me.
You wanted a story, you got one.
But I'm not interpreting or
explaining it for you.
- You're Lilly.
- You're naive.
Never confuse the narrator
and the story.
- I didn't.
- Yes you did.
If you're not Lilly,
then who are you?
Maybe a hooker with
a narrative talent.
I know nothing about you,
but that keeps it exciting.
Very exciting...
I'm dying of excitement.
- So, are you bored?
- No.
I'm upset with myself.
Hello. Hello?
Oh, shit.
- Why did you do that?
- Do what?
- You know what I mean.
- No, I don't have a clue.
- You tried to kill me.
- Excuse me?
- You wanted to kill me.
- Bullshit.
You devious bastard!
Is that another one of
your funny stories?
In the bathroom you were
washing my hair...
And then you tried to make
it look like suicide.
- Stop it.
- Why did you do it?
I didn't do nothing. Your
imagination is running wild.
- And what's this?
- No idea, how do I know?
You threw the hairdryer into the
tub, arranged it to look like suicide.
That's bullshit. Now cut it out!
- I didn't do anything to you.
- Neither did I.
You fainted in the bathroom and
I put you to bed.
- No.
- Yes.
You made the cut yourself.
You tried to kill me.
Sure. My life's so boring,
therefore I decided this morning
to kill someone. That's sick!
- Yes, just like in 'Arabian Nights'.
- What?
- That was your plan.
- It was a joke.
You told a hooker story and
I told a fairytale.
- How long was I unconscious?
- No idea.
- Why didn't you call a doctor?
- I did!
- Liar.
- I did call a doctor.
- Was he here?
- No.
Emergency doctors usually show up.
Press redial.
Emergency Center.
- Now cut the crap.
- That proves nothing.
- I called the doctor, but...
- And what? Did he show up?
- No. Damn it... he never came.
- I knew it.
- He didn't come because...
- Yeah, go on.
- Just look at yourself.
- What the fuck do you mean?
You lip, your neck and
those spots there...
The doc would've gotten
the wrong impression.
You mean he would've called the cops.
- You got it.
- Why did you slit my wrist?
- I didn't.
- So then who did it?
- You.
- Bullshit.
You took acting class at school
and you can make up stories,
but you can't draw me in,
because, unlike you,
I still have a clear mind.
I never took an acting class
and I can't tell a story.
Not again...
We're going in circles!
So why are you putting
on this show?
You're the one, who's
putting on a show.
Like I'm the one with
the hidden cameras.
- What cameras?
- The one in the bathroom.
And the one up there.
- And I'm putting on a show?
- They're surveillance cameras
against burglars, that's all.
It has nothing to do with you.
Really? Then rewind the tapes,
I want to see what happened.
- I won't do it.
- Why not?
If you're telling the truth, you
don't have to be afraid of anything.
Why did you wash my clothes?
They were clean.
- Get out.
- What?
Get lost.
I can hardly walk on the street
like that.
Put on your clothes and fuck off.
You have a crappy taste in music.
Still here?
- How's the wine?
- Good.
Aren't you gonna offer me any?
Give me a break and leave.
Don't touch me!
Listen!
Listen to me!
Your fucking imagination
makes me sick.
Unbelievable.
- You buried me.
- Are you completely nuts?
- I saw the hole.
- You're insane. Fuck off!
I was unconscious.
And you buried me alive.
You murderer,
you belong in jail!
Good morning.
Are you okay?
You passed out for a moment.
Untie me.
But first you've to
tell me a story.
That was our deal.
Forget already?
How funny. I won't
fall for that trick.
- What trick?
- It won't work.
- What do you mean?
- I remember everything.
I hope so. I don't feel like
telling the fairytale again.
Untie me.
- Get started already.
- I've told you a story.
No.
You know why it won't work?
Because I can check anytime if
my wrist is slit.
That's the story?
Your hands are clean, but did
you think of the cameras?
You've an unusual narrative style.
The dirty spade? The hole
in the backyard.
- What about it?
- I remember exactly.
Oh, you mean the cat I ran over?
I buried it in the yard, couldn't
throw it in the garbage. Could I?
What's going to happen now?
After telling me a nice story,
you're free to go,
as we agreed.
- I don't believe you.
- Why not?
You wouldn't let me leave, otherwise
you would have done that before.
You'll think of something mean.
Since nothing has worked so far:
the hairdryer, the wrist, the burial.
You must be desperate.
I'm not afraid of you or death.
You know why?
Because I'm already dead.
You had sex with a corpse.
A pretty hot corpse.
That was good. Touch!
Too bad...
It could've been so nice,
but you screwed it up.
Know what this is?
The tapes from the video
cameras. It's all on there.
Want to see it?
Watch carefully.
What do you think?
Cool, huh?
That's only a foretaste.
The other tape's a killer.
And here it is.
Was I promising too much?
Good stuff, huh? Imagine this in
the hands of the wrong person.
I admit it was an amusing evening.
And a weird night.
I won't forget it.
I could turn it all into a novel,
but no one would believe it.
I don't believe it myself.
It's not easy to surprise
me any more.
But you succeeded a few times.
My compliments!
- Are you done?
- One thing bothers me, though.
I haven't been able to figure
you out, how unsatisfying.
Go jerk off and you'll
feel satisfied.
What were you really doing on that
bridge? You didn't hustle, did you?
Are you suffering from
Alzheimer disease,
keep repeating the same
questions over and over.
Why did you get into my car?
- Why did you let me fuck you?
- I'm just about to fall asleep...
Why did you want me to hit you?
And don't tell me it was my
desire, I have never hit a woman.
- That's what they all say.
- This Lilly story...
Very good. Fascinating.
It's your story. You are Lilly.
And you wanted to rip
me off, right?
You're so stupid.
Why didn't you leave after
we had sex?
I paid you. You could have left,
but you stayed.
Lilly would have run off.
So maybe you aren't Lilly.
I think you're her friend.
She told you how easy men
are to rip off,
so you decided to give it a shot.
That's what you said. For once
you were telling the truth.
Truth? What truth?
You're not a schizo or psycho,
are you?
- Get to the point.
- How did you do it?
- Do what?
- How did you get me to do it?
- What are you talking about?
- You got everything you wanted.
- Bullshit!
- You wanted sex, so we screwed,
you wanted me to hit you, and I
did, and you got money as well.
Yeah, and I wanted you to fry me
with the hairdryer,
slit my wrist
and bury me alive!
- You wanted to jump off the bridge.
- Sure...
And then you saw me.
All this time you wanted me
to kill you.
Bullshit.
Now I have figured you out.
Congratulations, you won
the jackpot.
Why did you want to jump?
Lovesickness?
Suicide should be planned
carefully.
- What do you know about that?
- Maybe more than you think.
So then what do I think?
You want me to tell you
what I think?
No, you're right.
I don't give a shit.
Fine, if you really want to die...
You just don't get it. I don't
want to die. I'm already dead.
- You're repeating yourself.
- Hand me my purse.
I want to show you something.
Inside pocket.
- What the hell is that?
- An obituary, you idiot.
Any copy shop could print it
on your behalf.
It's real.
So maybe she's your namesake.
You saw it in the paper
and cut it out.
Or you placed it yourself in
the paper. No one checks that.
Come on.
Did you really
think I'd buy that?
That was a mistake.
I think it's time to quit
this stupid game.
I'm sorry about everything
that happened.
I really didn't mean to hurt you.
And if I could turn back time...
Let's stop, okay?
No reason to keep fighting.
- I'll call you a cab.
- Don't bother.
- It's hard to get anywhere from here.
- I noticed.
- It's not what I meant.
- I want you to give me a ride.
Forget it.
You brought me here,
so it's only fair if you...
No!
WW not?
- Because.
- You're such a prick!
I don't know about you, but I'm
too exhausted to drive someone.
- I'll pay for the cab.
- No, thanks.
So that's it.
- Need help?
- No, thanks.
- Did you twist your ankle?
- I'm okay.
Wait here...
Get in before I change my mind!
Thanks.
- I really appreciate it...
- Never mind.
What's the matter?
Very funny.
Here, you can have it back.
I don't want it.
- Take it.
- What's all this about?
- I don't need your money.
- It's yours.
- But I don't want it.
- So donate it to charity.
What the fuck?
You're really insane.
You said I should donate it.
Exactly. Donate it and not
throw it out.
What's the difference?
Either way it's gone.
Brilliant logic.
Are you mad?
OK, so go back and
I'll pick it up.
I know why you're angry,
you think I tripped
on purpose, right?
I slipped.
- Not talking to me any more.
- You're getting on my nerves.
Asshole.
- Pull over and I'll get out.
- Calm down.
- Don't tell me what to do.
- I won't say anything at all.
I hate the way you treat me.
- What do you mean?
- You treat me like shit.
You get what you deserve.
Exactly. That's so humiliating.
- You'll survive.
- I'm so sick of you.
You're trying to provoke me
again, but I won't argue with you.
I don't want to argue either.
- Then everything's fine.
- No, nothing's fine.
- So we will fight?
- I'm waiting for an apology.
- When hell freezes over.
- You're really making me sick.
Coming from you, it sounds
like a compliment.
Idiot.
If I had known this before, I would
have never gotten into your car
and I could've saved myself
this bullshit.
You name it. Out of all the
pretty, smart women in town,
I met Frankenstein's bride.
It's not only intelligence,
but also humor that gets
you through this world.
- How do you do that?
- Do what?
One minute you're naive
and unbearable,
and the next moment
you seem to be very smart.
And you're the opposite.
Witty at times,
but often a big macho asshole.
I just realized I don't even
know your name.
Maybe better that way.
Nor have you told me your address,
nor given me your phone number.
So?
So, nothing...
You know my name.
So?
Henry-
Hey, let's pick her up!
- Stop!
- I don't pick up hitchhikers.
- Why not?
- On principle.
What a stupid principle.
I used to hitchhike a lot and
I met interesting people that way.
Thanks, I've had my fill.
Once I was waiting for two hours in
the pouring rain for a car to stop.
When I'd almost given up,
a limousine pulled over.
The driver was a beautiful woman
around 40. We clicked right away.
She invited me to her place.
At first I didn't want to go,
but I didn't feel like standing
in the rain all night.
I got undressed, hopped in
the sauna and then in the pool.
It was awesome!
Then we had the greatest dinner.
Champagne and all.
The woman was married to a diplomat
who'd given a dinner
for ambassadors the night before.
Life is crazy sometimes.
I'm standing in the pouring rain,
almost catching a flu,
when this good fairy picks me up.
I was so happy that I cried.
And she comforted me.
It was heaven on earth.
And for the first time
I had sex with a woman.
It was extraordinary.
We kept drinking wine and
massaged each other all night.
Then she told me that
I remind her of her daughter.
That was strange.
Why?
Before that she'd said that
she was infertile
and how she wished for a daughter.
But I didn't say anything.
Later she confessed to me that
she got pregnant at the age of 16,
run away at 17 and left the kid
with her mom.
- Do you get it?
- Yes. And?
The woman was Lilly's mother.
I was in bed with Lilly's mother.
- Come on...
- I swear.
The good fairy became
the evil mother.
Lilly would be still alive
if she hadn't left.
What happened next?
I left, and the woman
committed suicide.
No, it was different. She
killed herself first, then I left.
- You're making it up.
- I don't.
- I don't believe you.
- Your problem.
- How did she do it?
- Valium and red wine.
- While you were there?
- Yep.
Why didn't you help her?
Why didn't you call a doctor,
while I was unconscious.
You didn't drop the pills in
the wine, did you?
- How could you think that of me?
- And did you drop them?
Did you bury me alive
in the backyard?
- Fate or coincidence?
- What?
Your turn to say what
you believe in.
I'm too tired to answer.
- You're avoiding the question.
- Exactly.
Too bad.
My drama teacher used to say:
'You send out what you think and
attract what you send out.
And he also said:
'I believe in conflict and
nothing else.