DC Showcase: Death

Vincent!

Dinner's ready.

Vincent!

Omata!

Hey, Michelangelo.

This ain't the Sistine Chapel.

It's a freaking gate.

You don't understand.

I have to do it right.

Do it right?

That's always your excuse.

Takes you an hour to scrub out a damn toilet.

I'm an artist.

What you are, asshole, is fired.

Wait, you can't.

Get outta here.

How many jobs has it been now, Vincent?

Ugh! You're kidding me.

Nah. Pedro, he comes in for his shift this afternoon,

then, all of a sudden, he says he's feeling sick, and he just drops.

Jesus. That sucks.

Sucks more to be his wife and kids right now.

At least he had a wife and kids.

What have you got, Vincent?

No money, no job.

A life wasted chasing dreams that are always just beyond your reach.

You don't know anything about me!

What the hell, Vince?

Sorry.

I gotta hit the head.

Oh!

Those things will kill you.

That's the least of my problems.

Shitty day, huh?

I said, shitty day, huh?

Yeah, I, uh...

got fired.

I mean, I was working at Arkham Asylum.

So, I should be happy I'm no longer there, right?

Now, at least I can focus on my painting and...

Let me guess. Struggling artist?

Couldn't have picked a more lucrative cliché?

Yeah.

Wow.

You're...

Yeah?

There's something about you.

Something...

If I could just capture it on canvas.

You're saying you wanna paint my portrait?

He's saying he'd like to get you

back to his apartment for a good screw.

No! It's not like that.

Like what?

I've gotta go.

But... will I...

I'll see you around.

Ready?

Translation,

"Piss off, loser."

Talent? Perhaps a modicum.

But enough to succeed?

Absolutely not.

If I were you, I'd abandon art entirely

and seek out a profession that's more practical.

Gotham University has an excellent dental school.

Blew your last paycheck on booze, huh, Vincent?

How are you gonna pay your rent now?

Not too late, you know.

Get rid of all this crap.

Get your ass back to school if--

And what? End up like you?

A miserable failure who hates his life?

Hates his family.

You never understood me.

You never appreciated what I've--

It's always someone else's fault, isn't it, Omata?

Don't go there, baby.

You know you've been an even bigger failure with women

than you've been with your art.

Charlotte, I'm begging you. Don't leave me.

I've given you six years of my life, Vincent.

- Six years. - I know.

I've supported you emotionally, financially,

and I'd probably still do it, but I just...

I can't watch you wreck yourself like this, I--

Then go.

And when my artwork's selling for millions,

and when the whole damn world knows who I am, don't come crawling back.

I miss the man you used to be.

So do I.

Hey, what the hell?

You can't do this.