Cake

Hey.

No, David, it doesn't matter

if you're in the forest.

The phrase isn't, "If a tree falls in the forest,

‐can David hear it?" ‐Yeah, it is.

If a tree falls in the forest, can you hear it?

That's me. They're talking about me.

"You" could be anyone.

In fact it doesn't even have to be a human.

I can only be me, John. You know that.

Excuse me. Are you John Hunchman?

‐I am. ‐Uh, my name's Jenna.

I got your name from Kristen Mills,

my best friend.

You found her missing pom‐poms.

Ah, the mystery of the dumbest cheerleader of all time.

‐Sorry? ‐Uh, nothing.

Uh, how can we help you?

My parents make me take piano lessons and‐‐

You want us to murder your parents.

‐Uh, I'm afraid we can't. ‐No.

‐I want to take piano lessons. ‐What?

Then you're dumb.

I think the man my parents hired

isn't a real piano teacher.

‐Go on. ‐His name is Royce Delorax.

Mm‐hmm.

‐(piano keys clunking) ‐Doing great, buddy.

He makes me do all this weird stuff to the piano.

This is amazing. Seriously.

You outdid yourself.

MY parents don't care because he told them

it's "avant‐garde."

Well, what do you want us to do?

I want you to find out if it's real music.

If it's not, I want my parents' money back.

Hmm, of course. We'll take the case.

Excuse me.

Uh, we'd better get those CDs to go.

So how can we figure out if Jenna's teacher is legit?

You know, I know a lady who could help us,

but we would have to bring a lot of singles.

Singles? Why?

Are we going to Players After Dark?

‐DAVID: No. ‐JOHN: Crotches N' Company?

‐DAVID: No. ‐JOHN: Wet Spots on Sixth.

‐DAVID: No. ‐JOHN: Jay O'Staynes?

‐DAVID: No. ‐JOHN: Lumps Unlimited?

‐DAVID: No. ‐JOHN: Liquid Temptations.

‐DAVID: No. ‐JOHN: Squirt City?

‐DAVID: That closed. ‐JOHN: Dehumanizers!

Or one of the other local strip clubs that I've read about?

No, just bring dollar bills, all right?

Hmm, I always wanted to go to Dehumanizers.

David Purefoy, you've grown.

Are you keeping up with your piano lessons?

No, ma'am, I was seduced by another mistress:

Lady Electric Guitar.

‐Hmm. ‐JOHN: Miss Lee,

I can't believe you taught David piano.

Barely.

What was that awful song you wanted to learn how to play?

Oh, "Shredded Humans" by Cannibal Corpse?

Can you imagine?

I'm teaching Mozart and he's talking about,

"I wanna learn Cannibal Corpse where they sing like"...

Yes, his taste in music is problematic, and guess what?

He still hasn't learned that song.

I will, though.

Well, how can I help you boys?

Miss Lee, is there a tradition of musicians

doing unusual things to pianos?

Hmm, John Cage put nails and screws in the strings.

He called it "prepared piano."

Uh‐huh.

As in, "Be prepared to hear some fucked up piano?"

‐David! ‐Sorry.

‐(sighs) ‐Give me a single.

Oh, you know Stockhausen wrote concert pieces

where the performer punched the piano.

‐Of course! ‐Whoa.

A public transgression of norms surrounding high culture.

Oh, but mind you,

those composers knew their fundamentals.

Scales, music theory.

Remember Proverbs 1:7?

Fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge

but fools despise wisdom and instruction.

Bible boom.

‐You give me a dollar. ‐Uh‐uh!

Wisdom and instruction must come

before all that other craziness.

What would you have done if you had caught David

‐hitting your piano? ‐Oof.

Oh, dear.

She definitely would have kicked me in these nuts.

And may I presume one dollar for each nut?

‐For each of these nuts, yes. ‐All right.

‐MAN: (humming) ‐(gulps)

‐Are you nervous? ‐Yes, of course I'm nervous.

This is a very good‐paying job.

Will you just read the customer's lines, please?

Whenever you're ready.

Yeah, that's‐‐okay.

Mr. and Mrs. Galveston! So good to see you again!

‐Thank you. ‐How is your lovely daughter?

What?

Your son, is he in college yet?

See, I‐‐that's not in my script.

Yeah, it says to throw things in.

‐Make it your own. ‐Oh, okay.

‐MAN: Come on. ‐All right. Okay.

We have an exceptional wine list this evening.

Can I pour you a fat glass?

That sounds great. I would love to hear abou‐‐

Hang on. Hang on.

Ms. Galveston, may I ask you a personal question?

All right.

Have you had any work done?

'Cause you look absolutely radiant for your age.

Tony! Has she had work done?

'Cause she looks absolutely radiant for her age.

Okay, see now I think if I were you,

I would definitely steer clear of saying anything

even remotely close to that.

What? Why?

‐It's‐‐it's strange. ‐MAN: Why?

Why is it strange? What are you talking about?

You're saying have you had any plastic surgery done.

I was imagining she looked old.

I don't think it's a good idea.

Okay, okay. You know what?

Forget it.

All right. Let's just do it again.

Mr. and Mrs. Galveston! So good to see you again!

Thank you for coming back to Jamello's!

Mrs. Galveston, may I just say,

you take my breath away.

How did you get to be so beautiful?

‐I'm sorry, see‐‐ ‐What?

Again, I just think it'd be a tremendous mistake

to say anything about Mrs. Galveston's looks

in any way, shape, or form.

What are you talking about?

I'd feel very uncomfortable if a waiter spoke to me that way.

You would feel uncomfortable if I spoke to you like that?

Because I'm a hideous troll? You asshole.

No, it has nothing to do with that.

What if Brad Pitt came up to you and said,

"Hi, Mrs. Galveston. You are one foxy‐ass old lady."

‐MAN: Then what would you say? ‐It's not gonna be Brad Pitt.

And I want you to get this job.

You fucking liar. What would you say?

I'm just trying to help you. These are just‐‐

Can I just hear your answer?

Can I hear what you would say to Brad Pitt if he said,

"Mrs. Galveston, you're very attractive?"

You know, it's just beside the point.

I want you to get this job, not Brad Pitt,

and I wanna make sure you don't‐‐

It's beside the point, she says.

‐It's beside the point. ‐You know what?

No, I think it's very‐‐ I think it's‐‐

You are a fat and ugly troll, guy.

Fantastic that you're setting your sights on this job

‐and that you're‐‐ ‐Oh, God, shut up.

Just let me fucking do this.

All right.

Fucking gotta get my energy up now.

Mr. and Mrs. Galveston! So good to see you again!

Oh, my God, for the life of me,

I can't tell which one of you is better looking,

the mister or the missus.

You both very neutrally complement one another.

Would you like your usual table?

Good.

All right.

Looks like a pretty day.

Gonna get some sunshine, huh, Mr. Yuchida?

Okay.

Here we go.

Ooh.

All right. How we feelin'?

Yeah?

Ooh, your lips looks a little dry.

Um...

All right.

‐Here we go. ‐All righty.

Here we go.

Yeah.

Feel better?

Good.

‐Hey. ‐Hey. How are you?