Jesus Henry Christ

Would it kill you to call me Mom?

Just once?

Would it?

Everyone calls you Patricia.

But you're not everyone, you're my son.

And you're my Patricia.

Everyone thinks that I have a photographic memory.

But that's not really accurate.

I'm more like a video camera.

I record what I see,

and, for reasons beyond me, I always remember.

Frankly, I've always found photographs depressing,

especially the old ones.

That's my mother, Patricia.

The product of an unplanned pregnancy.

Patricia was the only girl in a family of four boys.

Five, counting my Grandpa Stan.

My grandmother was pregnant for 72 months.

- Ow! - Or six years.

Just about 1/6th of her entire life.

Uncle Billy was the first born of six sons.

Tim and Tom came next, then Jimmy,

followed by two baby boys who died in the uterus.

And finally, Patricia...

who, by all accounts, had a very happy childhood.

Cheese!

- Cheese! - Cheese!

Until her tenth birthday.

J' For she's a jolly good fellow J'

J' For she's a jolly good fellow J'

J' For she's a jolly good fellow J'

J' Which nobody can deny M

Happy birthday, Patricia.

- The candles aren't lit. - Oh.

Stan.

Stan!

Hand me your lighter.

What lighter?

Oh...

You mean... this lighter.

Boys, if it wasn't for this lighter...

I'd have been shot straight through the heart

by one of them pinko, Commie,

socialist, Karl Marx-loving, liberal wack jobs,

subversive moon bat, hippie freaks.

Uh-huh.

But if he thought he could kill

Stan "The Man" Herman...

Kapow, kapow, kapow!

Both: Faggot.

Now, one of you boys gets this when I die,

so be careful with it.

You got something to say, Billy?

I'm too high to bother with the likes of you, Stanley.

You son of a--

Give me the goddamn lighter, now.

Uh, Mommy?

Oh.

Oh, dear, oh, dear.

Oh...

It's almost out.

I'll save ya!

- Stop, drop and roll! - Jesus H. Christ!

Stop, drop and roll, stop, drop and roll,

stop, drop and roll, stop, drop and roll!

My grandmother's death was only the beginning.

Woo!

I said I'm Starsky, you're Hutch.

Fine, have it your way.

Starsky's a total homo anyway.

You calling me queer?

What if I am... Starsky?

Take it back, take it back!

- I ain't homo! - Okay, okay, I take it back!

You ain't homo!

Put down the gun, Tim.

Jesus H. Christ!

You didn't really think I'd shoot my own brother, did you?

Ahh!

Uncle Jimmy died of AIDS.

How he got it, no one talks about,

which, to me, makes it even sadder.

Since no one ever talks about him,

it's like Uncle Jimmy was never born.

Happy birthday, Billy.

Going somewhere?

I'm going up Canada way.

Canada?

What for?

I'm 18 now.

I don't got a choice.

Yes, you do, stay here.

If I stay here they'll ship me off to 'Nam

or they'll lock me up in jail.

Either way you look at it, I gotta go.

But I can't take care of Stan, not all by myself.

I'm only ten years old.

You're gonna do great, Patty.

I know you are.

Are you stoned?

Stay here with me.

Please, Billy, please!

I... I can't.

My name's not Patty, it's Patricia.

And you're a coward, William Herman.

You must be the change you wish to see in this world.

E-R-A!

I proudly accept

your nomination for vice president

of the United States.

Anita Hill!

Keep your rosaries off my ovaries!

Keep your rosaries off my ovaries!

Mommy!

Mommy!

Mommy!

Mom, Mom, Mom!

Mommy?

Happy birthday, Patricia.

Why is that woman crying, Mommy?

Because God is punishing her for being Satan's helper, honey.

Baby killers!

Baby killer!

Jesus H. Christ!

Congratulations.

It's a boy.

It's a what?

A beautiful, healthy baby... boy.

But-- but-- but that's impossible!

All the sonograms said it was a girl!

I wallpapered her room pink

because it's supposed to be a girl!

A beautiful, healthy baby-

Henrietta.

So beautiful.

- Hello. - Hello.

So, guys, um...

I'm feeding my grandson the other day, you know?

Henry.

He's like nine months old.

These carrots are...

mmm...

delicious!

Tastes like shit!

The kid says...

That was funny, do it again.

I'm not shitting ya.

The kid at nine months old is speaking.

Wait 'til I tell the boys.

My grandson's a freak genius!

No, no, no, no, no, Stan.

You do not say a word about this to anyone.

- Stan... Stan... - I swear, I swear, I swear.

You know, the kid's not just smart.

You can tell, he's got a good heart.

What's a freak, Patricia?

A freak is...

someone who's very special.

Henry, honey.

It makes me feel lucky.

Stop pointing at him.

Aw...

I didn't say nothing to no one.

Then what is this?

Now that there is one photogenic kid.

I don't want Henry to see any of this.

This... this... trash.

I don't want him to know anything about it.

You got it.

Now let's go home.

I can't...

take care of you anymore.

I won't.

Patricia.

I'm a grown man who can take care of himself!

You're a grown man who's never cooked a meal for himself

in his entire life!

Or washed any of his own underwear

or raised any of his four sons

or made the necessary arrangements to

bury three of them!

Oh...

Now don't you cry, Henry, my boy.

Uh...

Your mother's right.

Your Grandpa Stan being here...

Me being here is best for all of us.

YUP-

Best for...

Gotta go, Geronimo!

What?

Ahh!

I'm okay.

"Y- ".

"Y- ".

"Y- ".

"Y- ".

"Y- ".

"Y- ".

"Y- ".