Californication - Second Season

Previously on Californication...

That's it! Big, stop the van!

- What? - Ovitz! Hit the bricks!

See you at the Oscars, pal.

He ruined my career.

Look, Daisy's family, and you fucked her shit up. Fix this.

Vaginatown is probably not gonna happen. The financing fell through.

- You're shitting me! - I wish I was.

The "wall of cocks" sequence alone would have blown people's minds.

The "wall of cocks"...

Oh, hells, yeah! You got Daisy the part.

I had to invest 100 grand in his movie.

Yeah, I am pregnant.

I'm not the father.

There was only one guy, according to Sonja.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but Hank could very well be the father of the child.

- What the fuck is this? - Just giving you something for your book.

We drove out here together.

I ended up producing. She ended up alone.

Greetings. Just...

What are you doing on my property?

I'm just...

I wanted to know if the lady of the house was home.

And you are?

I'm a friend.

Well, I'm more of a friend of a friend, actually.

My wife doesn't have any friends that I don't know.

- Oh, so you're married? - That's none of your goddamn business.

Well, no, look, I appreciate the hostility.

I'm not trying to break into your castle here.

I'm a writer. I'm doing some research.

My name is Hank Moody. It's a pleasure.

There's no smoking here.

Outside?

There's no smoking outside? Really?

- Is everything OK out here? - Is this her?

Honey, it's OK. Go back inside.

My name is Hank Moody. I'm a writer.

And I was just... doing some research.

Did I... say that you could talk to her?

Jesus, you got a bit of an overprotective vibe happening here.

I want to ask you a question about Lew, Lew Ashby.

Hey! Hey, I asked you nicely to get off my property.

I don't know about "nicely," motherfucker.

I will leave your property when I'm good and ready,

motherfucker.

Who puts a fuckin' bush there?

I'm just saying,

Ashby Manor might not be the best place for you

in your current depressed frame of mind.

It's not for anybody since Ashby let the douchebag within take up residence.

Your favourite. You really like that guy.

Who? Julian Self, the snake oil salesman?

10 grand a week that bearded bozo's making,

dispensing his diarrhoea-of-the-mouth therapies to the creatively blocked.

- Can you believe that shit? - 10 grand.

That's what you should have put the Runkle nest egg into, self-help.

Wait, that's sleazier than porn.

So you made the right choice.

Laugh it up, pal.

One more day of shooting,

we sell this puppy and I double my investment.

- So you're sanguine about the whole... - I am sanguinissimo, baby.

Although, you know what?

I'm a little worried about being on that porn set

cos I'm starting to feel like a gynaecologist.

Yikes. Did you ever think of that girl?

She looks down between the stirrups

and she sees your gleaming orb looming straight up at her.

You ever think about that?

So, did I ever think about penetrating someone with my head?

- No, I never did think about that. - Good.

Hey, Lew?

Lew?

Hey, Lew!

Hey, Lew, you decent?

Lew.

I knew you were a dick!

I knew it.

OK, can we do this later, please?

Sure, no problem.

Come on. Let go of it.

You can do it.

- All right, just smile. - Hank!

Nice.

Please. Please.

Oh, that's good. We're done.

Nice and secure on there. I'm concerned with the bump here.

If you could just... I don't want it to fall off.

Jeez! For the love of fuck, guys!

Careful, huh?

I love this thing, more than life itself.

Thank you very much.

Baby!

What have you done to my house?

I'm sorry, OK?

It's just... the location fell through.

So, look, we have one more scene,

and Vaginatown is a wrap, OK?

I just... I figured you'd be working.

What, a girl can't come home a little early?

Knock off, relax, watch a little "Opes"?

Runkle!

I need to knock a couple walls down in there.

What is he talking about?

What's that? Is that the spinner?

Didn't we shoot that scene already?

This is my wife.

Sorry.

'Ello. Ronny Praeger. Filmmaker.

You never told me your old dear was such a lovely bit of filth.

You dirty bastard. What do you reckon, sweetheart? Do you want to be in it?

I could easily see you and Daisy engaged in

a nice little bit of stand-up 69.

69 is a waste of time, stand-up or otherwise.

And don't you dare touch my walls.

You are spicy. I like it.

There she is.

My leading lady.

Can you feel it, the sexual tension?

How do I look?

Don't stare, you fucking baboon. It's rude!

Christ on the cross, what did you do to yourself?

You look like a fuckin' child!

A very hot child.

Who's been poorly waxed. You cheated on me.

I couldn't get an appointment, he told me to shave.

I told you to trim.

This is Vaginatown, sweetheart.

They didn't have little heart-shaped tufts of pubis in 1930s L.A.

Maybe not, but I think my character was before her time.

Sorry. Who said it's your character?

We need a fuckin' merkin!

OK, you know what?

We've got a few of those lying around.

- You do? Why? - Don't you tell him, Marce!

Turn it this way, it's like he's staring at you.

Hank, you got to be kidding me, right?

- That could be anybody. - But it's not.

It's "the artist within" a nice young girl named Holly.

Look, it's like one of those Jesus pictures,

except it's his balls that follow you wherever you move.

See that brute-like appendage? It's actual size.

You came all the way over here to show me that?

- You're 12. - Well... no, this vindicates me.

Proves the guy's a douchebag.

He's a danger to women. He has to be stopped.

He's got to be stopped?

He manipulates them. He fucks with their minds.

You're friends with Sonja, you should go tell her.

Possibly. But you're the father of her unborn child.

I think that trumps "friend."

We don't know that for certain.

We don't know for certain what kind of arrangement they have either.

They live together is their arrangement.

Maybe they have one of those open relationships or something.

- No. - What?

That is disgusting. That is not a possibility.

The open relationship does not exist.

It's like an oxymoron, like "jumbo shrimp" or...

OK. So that's where you draw the line?

At open relationships?

Yes, that's thoroughly offensive to me.

The mouth-rapist who sleeps with prostitutes is offended.

No, come on. Look, my ethical unpredictability

is default proof of its hard-won vitality.

Because I'm not by rote or programmatic about it.

I think this shit through, every issue.

Are you gonna go tattle to Sonja or do I have to? I'd be glad to.

Shut up, OK? Mind your own business.

- Get out of here. - I'm minding our business.

- Go pick up Becca. She's at school. - This conversation is not over.

OK, captain. What's the plan?

We gonna be shooting something at some point?

I kind of promised my wife

that the, you know, things would clear out by, say...

You promised your wife, did you?

What is it you think we're doing here, Runkle? Does this look like Chatsworth?

Do I look like a Ukrainian sex worker? No.

We are making erotic art here...

something men and women, God willing,

will be pleasuring themselves to for decades to come.

OK, OK. I get that. And I respect your vision. Really, I do.

It's just the neighbours are getting restless,

I'd rather they don't call the cops and have us shut down.

It's your money.

- But if you're looking for transcendence... - We should start shooting.

Bring in first team!

Where's Clittes?

Man, you look smokin' in that picture.

Happiest day of my life.

Your dad looks so proud.

That's not my dad.

For Christ's sake, Marce.

You, it's time to go down and unleash the monster of cock.

Be careful what you wish for.

This is what you came home early for, isn't it?

To do some cocaine.

And watch some Oprah.

That thirsty little nose of yours is costing us some money.