Jump, Darling

- What if I took a month off, and...

we went to...

I don't know, New York or LA, and...

we'll get you some new headshots,

meet some new agents...

We always said that we wanted to live somewhere else.

Could be good.

We'll get you back into acting.

- I just can't watch you do this...

gay variety show shit anymore.

Normally, I'd be introducing

the legendary Longshlonged Fairy,

but the bitch has taken her pompadour

to the city of brotherly love

to win big. So, instead,

I give you Fishy Falters.

- What the hell, man? You're on!

Where are you gonna go?

- Don't forget Cindy's Liver Sprinkles.

She won't eat without it.

What about money?

Stay. - I stocked the freezer.

You're good for a month.

- Do I look like a slot machine?

You want your bags or not, Cleopatra?

Hello?

Hello?

- Get the hell out of my house, you prowling son of a bitch!

Hi, Grams.

Russell.

So, to what do I owe this...

long-awaited yet highly unnerving surprise?

Is that my handwriting? God, barely legible.

- Did you burn your hair? - What would make you say that?

Well, it's burnt.

- You should talk. You look like you've been hit with a shovel.

I wasn't expecting company, you know.

- Shall I make us dinner, then? - Oh, please.

- It's very good, darling. What is that?

It's your meatloaf.

I should cook more often.

So, to what do I owe

this much-anticipated visit? - I'm here for the car.

- It's in mint condition, I'll have you know.

Any trips planned?

To the end of the earth.

If you find it, darling,

please, draw me a map.

Well, isn't this nice?

You'll stay and cook for me, I hope.

- Actually, from here I plan to, uh...

check out this acting workshop.

Well, you might wanna get your hair cut first. And some rest.

I've been busy, I guess.

Oh? Good.

And how is, um... oh, um...

- Justin? - I know his name.

He's fine.

- It's a shame he didn't join you.

He's fine, Grams.

- Well, stay as long as you need.

- I'll be hitting the road in the morning.

How very efficient.

- Oh, darling. Good God. - I just...

nodded off. It's no big deal.

- You know, your grandfather thought himself an artist.

I think this car would... would...

really be good for sale.

If I put it up for sale.

I think I just might do that.

Goodnight, darling.

Leaving already? - I've got the workshop.

Are you taking the car?

Nope.

How will you get there?

Don't worry about it.

- This workshop starts straight away, then?

Where'd you say it was? - East of here.

How precise.

- I'm not exactly sure where it is yet.

- Well, I should think you'd wanna find out,

since you're practically on your way.

I'll get to it.

A man without directions.

Very unattractive, darling.

- It was good to see you, Grams.

Russell, darling?

Could you come back inside for a moment, please?

- Jesus! - I'm not myself, darling.

I'm sure you've noticed.

Could you help me into the shower?

This feels wonderful.

It's been a while. - Since you had a shower?

- Well, I hardly do anything, so I can't possibly be very dirty.

Maybe I should... call Mom.

- No, no, no, no, no. She'd rush over here

like some kind of bullet train and take me to that place.

All because I'm a little sleep deprived.

- Does she know that you're having trouble sleeping?

Just leave it, darling.

Worry about yourself.

- Pop the trunk. - Pony up, Mufasa.

I've been here like twenty minutes.

I was gonna stop at an ATM.

Well, I guess it's gonna be

another one from your collection, huh?

Hey, if you ever sort out your cash situation, let me know.

I can get you the harder stuff.

You better be off, then.

I think I'll stay. For a bit.

Maybe you could hold off on putting the car up for sale?

Put it up for sale?

I kept it for you.

Come on.

- What can I do for you, handsome?

- Is this some sort of gay night?

- County and college queers need a lighthouse. I'm it.

- Well, let's ante it up then, shall we?

Let me pick one.

- You're certainly not an early riser, are you, darling?

Russell! Oh! Oh!

Sorry, Grams.

That man was retarded.

What? He was. He was!

I think he was just old.

Careful.

- People don't say "retarded" anymore, Grams.

Oh, for God's sake, darling.

- How much? For all of them. - My wife says some of them

are human. I don't know which ones.

- Pretty sure they're synthetic.

What do you think?

- Have you come down with cancer?

She's got dementia.

How 'bout a hundred bucks?

Margaret!

What a fabulous surprise!

Oh, how I've missed you at bridge!

Well, now who is this Greek god

glowing under the fluorescent lights?

I'm Jeanne.

- Russell. - This is my grandson.

- I can tell the girls I finally met the "actor".

Now, when are you gonna give this queen of yours

some great-grandkids, huh?

I already have five.

Five already.

Well, it's marvellous to see you out preparing

one of your famous feasts for the next generation.

Margaret, do please try and come to the next game.

Good to see you. Nice to meet you.

Bitch.

Ha! Grams!

- Next up is our arts and culture correspondent,

fresh off his book launch, in which he says fear is good.

Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us...

This is familiar.

- It's a news cycle, Grams. It repeats.

- The fire we reported at the old fire hall

is still burning out of control.

There are no reports of injuries,

but a three-block area has been evacuated.

You might want to avoid that route on the way home from work.

- I'll put a brighter bulb in the lighthouse

if I can drink for free.

The name's Fishy Falters.

Sold.

You got a microphone?

- All you queers best pull out your iQueens

and text every homo you know,

because tonight, this place is getting a serious reno.

Russell? Russell Hill.

Derek! Derek Johnson! Trinity College '09!

This is my wife Molly. I live out here now.

Date night with the gays.

- I'm totally ape for Pointer Sisters.

Scissor Sisters.

- So, this is, like, what you do now?

I thought you'd be in Hollywood, man.

Derek!

- Seriously. You were gonna be like Andrew Garfield, no?

This is just a hobby.

Look at you!

- It's nice to meet you. - Aw...

How 'bout a shot?

You wanna hang out sometime? Toss a football around?

I don't need the practice.

So what are you into, then?

Sorry?

- I got the impression this was working for you.

Was I mistaken?

Hard to say.

Alright.

In your regular threads, though.

- Sixty. - A hundred.

Seventy-five.

- A hund-- - OK, fuck it.

- What the hell is that? - Music, Grams. It plays music.

- The attic is a good place for it, then.

What are you doing up there, anyhow?