Psycho Therapy: The Shallow Tale of a Writer Who Decided to Write about a Serial Killer

You're gonna die.

But you still don't believe it.

That's why you haven't thought about things you'll miss.

That tiny brain of yours...

ticktock, ticktock.

"Am I gonna die?" "Will I survive?"

I will save you from all that trouble.

You are going to die

tonight.

This is the Afar Hotel. We shine to make you shine.

How can I help you?

I need to talk to room 123.

No, ma'am. I can't put you through to room number 123.

And do you know the worst part about it?

No, not dying.

The worst part is realizing you are alone.

We, the rest of us, will go on living.

We are going to park our cars, groceries will be carried,

et cetera and all that.

In that split second, you will realize,

you, and only you, are going to die.

You think you felt lonely before?

No. You've never really experienced it.

Shall we begin?

It's... It's dull.

It's kind of a downer.

Well, you probably mentioned it before anyways.

Wasn't it something animalistic?

Uh, no.

It, um, I guess you could say it's primal.

When did he talk about it?

Uh, at Gil's place.

You weren't there.

I can't remember.

A few too many G&Ts.

Let's see, what was I wearing? Yes, it was summer...

Zoe, I love this rice.

-There's like a Persian thing. -Yes, Persian rice.

Oh, my God, it's good. It's crunchy.

- Yeah, crunchy. It's called tahdig. - Is it healthy?

- Tahig. - Actually, no.

Well, it's rice. Not as healthy as people think.

I don't give a shit if it's healthy.

I love it. It tastes delicious.

- Suzie, you okay? - Uh, well,

since you're interested.

Uh, the story is set in the year 40,000 BC.

What?

-The story of the rice? -No, Scott. My stor...

My story. The story that I'm working on right now.

Keane's been working on a new book for a while.

How long has it been?

- Um... - Four years.

It's been four years.

Well, what can I say, I'm not exactly the sweetest thing

to be around when I'm writing.

No, you're so sweet.

You're always the sweetest thing.

Writers. Wow.

Writers and all that chaos within.

Consuming all the, I mean, all of you.

It must be hard for you, too, Suzie.

I'm gonna go get some more rice.

There's a little left on the stove.

-Scrape the bottom of the pot. -So...

-Don't miss the crunchy part. -...40,000 years ago?

What? Uh, no, it's actually 40,000 BC,

so it's a little bit more than 40,000 years ago.

40,000 BC, uh, in Slovenia.

-In Slovenia? -Oh.

And, uh, it's the story of Homo sapiens and Neanderthals.

Actually, it's a love story

about a Homo sapien woman

and the last living Neanderthal on the planet Earth.

-In Slovenia? -Right.

I was inspired to write this from an article I found

about five or six years ago.

It was that they found

a tibia bone flute made from the tibia of a bear

in a cave in Slovenia that was inhabited by Neanderthals.

Was the Slovenia back then the same as today's Slovenia?

Wh-what do you mean?

I'm just saying that continents drift, so they move.

I feel like I took too much rice.

Zoe, did I? Is that a problem?

I mean, yeah, even though they move,

-they all move together, you know. -Who?

The Slovenians?

Stop it.

-Stop it. -What?

- The Neanderthals, right? - What?

No, no, no, no, the continents.

The-the, uh...

Lovely night.

Wasn't it?

Had so many laughs.

Just start the car and let's go.

It's green.

What a fucking jerk.

Jesus fucking Christ.

My God, motherfucker.

You drunk asshole!

I really don't know how you manage

to humiliate yourself every time.

Hmm? What are you talking about?

I'm not asking for much.

I'd just... Just, I'd like one night, you know, with...

Ah. Geez.

When you look at me like that, it scares me.

Suzie, what are you talking about?

Turn off the light.

Are you talking about tonight?

We were all laughing together.

No, they were laughing at you.

What do you mean?

And every time, you buy it.

-Like an idiot. -Oh, that's ridiculous.

First it was the Mongolians,

now it's the Neanderthals.

Suzie, you know, thanks to that book of mine...

That "inspiring novel award"

that some book club at a shitty university gave you

is not an award.

Whatever. I don't do it because of the award.

I'm going to sleep.

-My work means something. -I'm sleeping now.

-Suzie. -Shh.

I gotta be honest with you, buddy. Um...

Forget about the Neanderthals.

They are, uh, just not very sexy.

It absurd, compadre, and seriously,

I'd never be able to get any publisher to take it on.

What are you talking about?

Uh, they would kill each other for the film rights for this.

Film rights?

Oh, just write about something you're familiar with.

Okay? Something that's, uh, that's a part of you.

All the great writers are doing that.

I'm not Mongolian, David.

So? You dedicated your first book

-to your Mongolian grandma. -Come on.

You remember all the interviews that I arranged for you?

I was nervous at that award ceremony.

I didn't know what to say. It just came out.

Then you had me doing all these interviews--

that's all they wanted to talk about.

Mongolian grandmother? Come on.

In all her life, my grandmother never left Brooklyn.

Just-just write something again, like the, um...

The-- what is it?--

the "we have no electricity, but we're happy."

You know, something like that.

"We don't have electricity, but we're happy."

-Yeah. -David...

did you read my first book?

Can I get the check? Yeah, thanks.

It doesn't matter whether I read it or not

because people read it,

and now you are known as Mongolian.

So, just, you know, write something authentic.

You know? Ethnic. Again.

Right? O-Open the doors to a world

that we know nothing about.

So, you're familiar with the world of Neanderthals.

Keane...

Keane, I-I like you.

I really do.

I mean, you're my first account.

You're how I got started in this business, but...

You know what, guess what.

I probably don't even get it.

Maybe you're onto something,

so just finish it and then... then maybe I'll understand.

Okay?

Thanks.

David.

What the hell did he get?

-Keane O'Hara? -Yep.

I'm a big fan of your work.

You are?

Yes, Mr. O'Hara.

I can't tell you how many times I've read your book,

The Sorrow of the Steppes.

Please call me Keane.

-Keane. -So...

you read my book.

Yes.

What are you writing about now?

Something interesting?

Well...

I don't really like to talk about

what I'm currently working on, Mister...

Please, call me Kollmick.

What's that?

Kollmick.

"Kollmick."

Uh, don't get me wrong, Mr. Kollmick,

but we writers need to find an audience

to listen to our stories.

If we go around telling them,