House of D

My name is Tom Warshaw.

I'm an American artist living in Paris.

I've lived here for 30 years

with a secret that nobody knows.

My son, Odell, is turning 13 today.

And for his birthday, I'm gonna tell him my secret.

I'm gonna tell him, "You know how old movies

"when the bad guys want to break into a safe?

"There's this one guy, the safecracker,

"who puts his ear up to the lock

"and listens as he dials the combination,

"listening for what they call in English, the tumblers.

"Because when the number is right, there's a click,

"and he knows with the click, he's breaking in.

"Well, in a man's life, there's a tumbler too.

"And I think that number is 13,

"when there's a click and a boy breaks into manhood.

"And the safe of his life opens up and Shazam,

there are all the riches of what a man can hope for and hope to be."

What I want to say to my son is,

the opposite thing happened for me when I turned 13.

Instead of opening, the safe locked shut on me.

Because of certain things that happened,

I couldn't hear the tumblers anymore.

Now that he's turning 13, I'm hearing the tumblers again.

Maybe it's like we're becoming men together.

Once upon a time there was a Frenchman who was not French.

No, I'm not drunk. I'm just talkative.

Shh!

Sorry to wake you. I'm just trying to have a discussion with my wife.

I was born in Greenwich Village, New York City, New York,

the United States of America.

Shh!

My sto starts where every man's story starts.

With Mom.

Sorry I'm late.

I made supper for us.

It's cold. I'll heat it up.

No. It's okay. It looks good.

My father had died a year earlier of cancer.

My mom was a nurse.

She was convinced that all such disease could be prevented

by mammoth intakes of leafy, green vegetables.

Specifically, she believed in the magic of the brussel sprout.

Are you gonna finish your brussel sprouts?

I don't know, Mom. I just started.

If you want, I'll heat them up. No.

Fine.

She was lost without my father.

But sometimes I could find her.

Mmm! Mmm!

Mmm!

Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm!

Oh, Mom, now that's what I call a brussel sprout.

Oh! Just melts in your mouth.

I don't know what Brussels was thinking letting go of these.

And sometimes she didn't want to be found.

Eighteen.

Twenty take away two equals eighteen.

Okay, Mom.

How was school?

Fine.

How was work?

Fine.

Want me to wash your hair? No, thanks.

Save me some hot water, will you?

Sometimes she cried herself to sleep.

Sometimes she just cried.

On those nights, the only way to reach her was through

her hatred of our president, Richard Milhouse Nixon,

whose nickname, Tricky Dick...

It's Tricky Dick.

I am not a crook.

inspired me to come up with

novel uses for my socks and shirts.

Watergate, schmatergate. That's all I have to say.

My fellow Americans,

I am not a crook.

My best friend's name was Pappass.

He was what you used to call "retarded."

We had a delivery boy job together.

If you wanted wet toilet paper delivered

to the back of your head, we were your guys.

If I wanna exercise my God-given freedom

to experience people getting cut up by chainsaws

and hung on meat hooks,

I think I have the constitutional right to do so, don't you?

We're gonna go to jail, Tommy. Pappass.

Hmm? We're not gonna go to jail.

No? They don't throw retards in jail.

Just stay cool and give me the dad-face.

Okay?

Everything will be okay. Yeah.

Two for the Texas Chainsaw Massa-cree, please.

Two for the Texas Chainsaw Massa-cree, please.

It's R, small-fry.

No one under 16 without parent or guardian.

Oh, that's my parent or guardian right there.

Enjoy the cinema.

Thank you.

Thanks!

Greenwich Village Chainsaw Massa-cree!

Time for school. Yeah!

Who wrote Yellow Mattress?

I.P. Nightly.

Uh, Yellow River?

I.P. Daily.

Um, French Rupture?

Oh, oh, Jacques Too Tight.

Russian Rupture?

Ivanna Kutcharakov.

Oh, don't do that!

[Tommy, Pappass laughing, chattering]

Sorry we're late, Simone.

Sorry about that. What do I care if you watch movies after school?

I'm not your mother.

How did you know we were at the movies?

How do I know?

And the retarded one still has an erection.

I love scary movies.

Psyche. It's like a Blimpie.

Slava bogu, it's like a Bratwurst.

You could sell it by the pound.

Come here. You're a good boy.

Tommy, too. Tommy wants to say his prayers.

Ah, Simone. My first boss.

Well, at least part of Simone, anyway.

I think this is where my love of French began.

People love delivery boys.

And dogs loved the bike.

Hut! Maybe we were beloved

because we took our job so seriously.

It's Mick Jagger.

We even offered a service we called "tenderizing the meat."

Our number one concern, of course,

was to deliver the meat on time.

Get back here!

Slow motion!

Delivery, Mrs. Brevoort. Jack?

Is that you, son? No, Mrs. Brevoort.

It's Tommy and Pappass from Simones'.

We have your meat.

Oh, boys. Hello.

Hello. Hello.

How much?

Um, five pounds. 69 cents a pound.

Three, four, five. Three, four, five.

Three dollars and... 45 cents for the ground chuck.

But at this price, Mrs. B.,

we like to refer to him as "ground Charles."

"Ground Charles." Oh, you're a clever boy.

And you've grown so. How old are you now?

Thirteen. Twelve, liar.

Thirteen in a couple weeks, Papp-ass.

I'm 41.

Don't be in such a hurry to get old. It's no fun.

And here's a dollar for you.

Actually, Mrs. Brevoort, that's a ten.

Here's a one.

A dollar for a kiss from Thomas.

And a dollar for a kiss from Papp-ass.

Papp-ass.

Thank you, Mrs. Brevoort.

Good boy.

You boys need a tip?

Please.

Okay, come on now.

We buried some of our delivery tips

outside the Women's House of D.,

a prison for women on 10th Street and 6th Avenue,

so Pappass's dad didn't take all of our money.

I guess we figured it was a safe place

because the women were already locked up.

Sometimes we just came for the conversation

between the ladies and their admirers down below.

You gotta bail me outta here, Daddy. C'mon, I'm scared.

I don't know about that, mama.

Look like you're gonna have to spend the night.

I don't have the money at hand. This here is for skin.

You got to get me out of here! I don't wanna argue with you.

Don't walk away from me! I'm through!

I see your hat down there!

Eight, fifteen.

We did good today, horn-dog.

Mm-hm. About 40 bucks to go

and the beautiful, green lady will be ours.