Californication - Sixth Season

Previously on Californication...

It's time, Becca, time you stopped

this funny business and went back to school.

No, I'm not doing that.

There's a lot more, little missy,

to being an artist

than just altering your consciousness

on a daily basis.

Which is why I'm writing.

How many pages you got?

I'm closing in on three hundy.

I hate you.

If I'm gonna do this thing,

get me the guy who wrote the fucking book.

- Do what? - God hates us all.

I fucking loved it, man.

They're turning it into a Broadway musical.

You write the script, I write the music and lyrics.

Let's make a fucking masterpiece.

Congratulations.

You have made it to the next round.

I'll give you one of daddy's long, slow tongue baths.

Men are the enemy.

I advocate the use of a cock cage.

Ophelia's gonna be so pissed at me.

We have sex for the first time in years,

and this is the first thing to cross your mind?

So how was the fucking fun zone?

There was this one mom--

- Did you do something with her? - No!

I'd know that bent fucking chode anywhere.

- Is that what I think it is? - Sure is.

Would you mind taking a look?

Of course. I'd be honored.

What are you doing? I'm studying your face.

For the truth.

You hate it.

That's not true.

Why would you say that?

No. No, no, no.

I can see it on your face.

Have you met me, Becca? I could be hating

on a million other things right now.

Wow. Thanks.

Is it perfect?

No, it's not,

but first drafts rarely are, sweetheart.

Okay. So what are your notes?

Okay, this is what I would do.

I would take this draft, and I would put it in a drawer--

it doesn't have to be a real drawer,

it could be a virtual drawer--

and then go out tonight and celebrate its birth.

You know, hoist an alcoholic beverage or two.

I will join you.

And then, in the morning,

you shut that drawer and forget about it.

And then you start on the next one.

- The next one? - Yeah.

Well, what kind of note is that?

A big one?

- So it's a disaster. - No, I didn't--

no, not at all. Not at all.

You don't even think I'm a writer, do you?

I think you're a writer if you keep on writing, Becca.

Am I a writer?

Well, I know that, when I saw you read your pages here

in the coffeehouse, I was-- I was proud of you.

You saw me?

Yeah. Yeah, I snuck in

and then out again unseen.

I asked you not to come.

I know, but you didn't really mean it.

Yes, I did.

Well, aren't you secretly touched that I cared enough

to disobey your wishes?

Thanks for the destructive criticism, Dad.

To be continued, sweetheart.

One page at a time.

I'm an asshole.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

Ow.

Hey. Hi, Charlie.

What's up?

How come you haven't been returning my calls,

my texts? Yeah, well, I think

that I really took a major step backward,

and I disrespected my sheness.

Your wait. Whoa, whoa, your what?

I don't-- your--your "sheness"?

I-I don't know what the fuck that is.

Is this--is this about the Housewife Hannah thing?

Because I'm sorry,

but come on, you've been to the fun zone, right?

I mean, if somebody, you know, offered you

an ice cream cone in hell, wouldn't you take it?

You know you would.

You know what I'm saying?

Wow. His pictures don't do him justice.

- Oh, thank you. - What a worm.

I'm sorry?

Yeah, you should be, you fucking creep.

Okay, who is she,

and why is she being so mean to me?

Well, this is Ophelia Robins.

Oh, this is Ophelia, the author.

I'm-- hey, congratulations.

'Cause you've really created quite a cult for yourself

with those books out there, right?

I'm Charlie Runkle, formerly of UTK.

Very nice to meet you.

How dare you offer me that diseased appendage?

She's very hostile.

Well, I just--I can't see you anymore, Charlie.

- Why? - Why?

You've disrespected this woman

time and time again.

You've had your chance. You blew it.

Go away. Okay, wait.

I don't know who the fuck you are, lady, okay,

but you have no business

telling me what to do-- how dare you raise

your voice to me? Uhoh.

And I bet you're probably one of those guys

who likes to raise his hand to women too.

No!

I mean, unless she wants it.

'Cause, you know, there are some women

who sometimes want to be, you know,

a little light slapping now and again.

Some even like to have their breasts slapped

a little bit-- ugh, God, he's even more

of a monster than I ever imagined, Marcy.

Let's go. Even you asked one time.

- Don't! - You asked me to!

Marcy! Marcy!

I'll call you.

Je-sus.

I have to schedule the deprogramming.

How's the next Broadway smash coming, buddy?

Is it whiskey, weed, and Zevon time yet?

Almost. Just hold your bald horses.

You're way past deadline, you know?

Stu and Atticus were expecting a draft weeks ago.

Yes, I'm well aware, but I've been busy,

you know, putting 'em off.

You're not helping.

Sorry.

Jeez.

How do you feel about it? Is it any good?

How the fuck should I know?

I do like writing musicals, though.

You just write a few pages, and then somebody

suddenly breaks into song,

and I don't have to worry about that part.

Winning!

I love musicals.

Really?

Since when?

High school production of Guys and Dolls.

The time of my young life.

I fingered a girl for the first time

at the opening night party. Ooh.

She was incredibly dry, Hank.

I think I was hurting her.

She cried.

Oh.

Nothing like a sweet, little Chuck Runkle coming-of-age story

to make you want to stab yourself in the dick.

Done. Hit it!

Whoohoo-hoo!

Where's my weed?

- We're out. - Well, you can't

really have whiskey, weed, and Warren Zevon

without the weed.

I know.

I'll pick some up on the way back.

I'm making copies, and I'm hand-delivering

to Atticus and Stu.

Yeah, because that's just the kind

of simple-minded lackey you are.

Oh, oh, Hank?

Karen is here, and she does not look happy.

Mm, what else is new?

Hey.

Peace out, bitches.

What did you say to her?

What did she say I said?

She said that you said it was a piece of shit

and that she should throw it out and start again.

That is not what I said...

Exactly.

Why would you do that?

Why would you be so blunt?

Why do you want to hurt her feelings?

I didn't want to. I didn't mean to.

She kind of ambushed me.

And she does need to throw that out

and start again.

It's a good lesson for a young scribe.