I'll Be Quiet Now

CW: Strong language:

“What do you mean, you don’t want to go to The Kinks?”

“That’s what I mean, stupid.”

“I am, but so are you.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t want to see The Kinks.”

“They’re old!”

“So? Would you go see The Rolling Stones?”

“Hell No.”

“What about David Bowie?”

“That’s different.”

“Enlighten me.”

“David Bowie is an artist.”

“And Ray Davis and Mick Jagger are not?”

“They’re in bands. If I want to see someone, I will. I got tickets for Oasis.”

“Who?”

“Their album came out yesterday.”

“What’s it called?”

“Definitely Maybe.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Definitely Maybe?”

“You don’t like it? What was the last Kinks album called?”

“I haven’t a clue, as a matter of fact, I don’t think I can name an album after State of Confusion, but that’s not the point.”

“What is?”

“That I want to see Dave Davies play the solo on All Day and All of the Night before he tosses off into.”

“Why you into that old shit?”

“Why you into, uh, was it Mirage?”

“Oasis. Oasis. Cause’ they’re like us.”

“Nearly 30 brick-layers?”

“Just about. Or maybe just I. Bet you a pint, they drink a pint.”

“That’s the worst bet I ever heard of. Bet a pint if a band drinks a pint? Do artists like David Bowie drink a pint?”

“I bet he does.”

“You’re wrong. Was in the NME. Total tee-toll as of last year.”

“That’s cause’ he’s an artist.”

“What is the fucking difference between an artist and a band?”

“Right lane, Jerry! Right lane!”

“FUCK!”

“That was fucking close.”

“Fucking America, man.”

“Stay on the fucking right side!”

“I could go for a pint.”

“They don’t have em’ here.”

“They have pubs. We saw one in Los Angeles.”

“Man…I can’t. I can’t.”

“What?”

“That was a joke of a pub.”

“You’re a joke of a pub.”

“Fuck you.”

“Twat.”

“I hope The Kinks break the fuck up, and you never get to see your precious Dave Davies play that solo, which he didn’’t even play on the fuckin’ record…what are you doing?”

“I’m pulling over, ain’t I? Long overdue.”

“Are we going to have a row?”

“Aye, napkin man.”

“Alright, hopefully Jimmy Page is near so he can see me defend his honor as I kick your ass. What did you call me?”

“I hope he’s walking down the motorway, too. Alright, out of the car.”

“No.”

“Fuck you. This is my rental. Out of the car!”

“Did you get laid last night?.. What I thought.”

“These American girls are all over our accents one minute, and then they’re too loaded to do anythin’.”

“I fucked a girl.”

“I know you did.”

“But that was the first night, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“What CD’s haven’t we played yet?”

“Shit, all of em’, but there’s a Tower Records right up there. Maybe, Definitely Maybe released here?”

“Definitely maybe.”

“You’re good after this truck.”

“Yeah, I have eyes too.”

“You going to buy the new Kinks record?”

“Definitely maybe.”

“Hey! It’s right here. Right here.”

“I know, I know.”

“Why don’’t you use the signal?”

“For what? We drove like 2 km.”

“You can at least give the person behind ya a little courtesy notification of the car's intentions.”

“This car has no intentions.”

“Just like your lady friend last night…Hey! That hurt.”

“Was supposed to.”

“How much do you think a CD is here?”

“I think we’re going to find out.”

“Looks closed.”

“They’re open.”

“How do you know?”

“There was a chick at the door.”

“Doing what?”

“...Standing there.”

“I don’’t see her. Was she inside or outside?”

“Outside, but maybe she’s inside now.”

“How much you got on ya?”

“Let me check. Fuck.”

“Shite. Did we get that drunk last night?”

“You pissed all over the car!”

“No.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Where you going?”

“To see if that girls inside.”

“Why do you care?”

“Definitely maybe.”

“Piss off.”

“You did, all over our rented Chevy Geo.”

“Wait.”

“What?”

“This fucke’rs only got a tape player.”

“What does that have to do with the girl or the fact we got no money for CD’s?”

“What do we have money for?”

“Wanking off.”

“That’s free my friend. Ever close your eyes?”

“Pass me a fag.”

“Three left.”

“Light, please.”

“Here you go, Princess Diana.”

“You think she likes The Kinks?”

“She was friends with Freddie.”

“Aye. Elton, too, but the Davies brothers.”

“Sort of ugly.”

“Does her highness…”

“She’s not the princess anymore. You don’t have to call her…”

“I can say whatever I want. We’re in America.”

“And I’m starting to regret it.”

“Really?”

“Nah, look at that sun, Jerry.”

“It’s like something the Beach Boys would sing about.”

“’Cause we’re in California?”

“Suppose so.”

“Would you go see The Beach Boys?”

“No.”

“I thought you liked old bands?”

“Brian Wilson. He doesn’t tour with the group.”

“So?”

“He’s an artist.”

“Are you being smart?”

“Definitely maybe.”

“Let me have a puff.”

“Here.”

“I bet you like Blur.”

“Who?”

“Do you listen to anyone under the age of 30?”

“There she is!”

“Who?”

“The girl?”

“The one that was standing by the door?”

“Yeah!”

“Watch this. Excuse me, miss?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you rather listen to The Kinks or Primal Scream?”

“The who and the who?”

“I think she likes Pete Townshend.”

“That’s it! I’m done with these American birds.”

“Did you just call me a bird?”

“And your bird can sing, it can siiiiiiiing!”

“Shut up!”

“Is that a Beatles song?”

“Yeah! What’s your name.”

“Melissa.”

“Hey Melissa, I’m Jerry, and this is.”

“Pete. Nice to meet ya.”

“Ooh, ciggies. Can I bum one?”

“Sure.”

“What are these?”

“Fags.”

“Excuse me?”

“Cigarettes, Benson and Hedges.”

“What did you call them?”

“Fags.”

“Hey! Come back here! Those are my fags! Back up, back up!”

“And what? Run her over?”

“Yeah!”

“No.”

“She’s got our fags!”

“Three of them!”

“And now we have none of them! Three was better.”

“Maybe we should quit.”

“What? Smokin’?”

“Definitely maybe. Hey! That hurt.”

“Was supposed to.”

“Well, what are we doing?”

“Did you still want to go in?”

“Not really.”

“Should we get some fags?”

“Yeah.”

“You see a fill station?”

“Ummm.”

“What’s that?”

“Looks like.”

“Is that a titty-bar?”

“No, it says, titles.”

“Like peerage? Can you just buy them here?”

“Says something about cars.”

“Like a car can be an Earl?”

“I dunno.”

“You know nothing.”

“Shut up.”

“I want a fag.”

“Well, we’re looking, ain’t we?”

“You’re looking at the title shop.”

“You thought it said titties. Can you read, Peter?”

“Better than you.”

“Read this then?”

“What? Where did you get that?”

“It’s your handwriting, isn’t it?”

“Kind of.”

“Definitely maybe, you twat. You dickless, piece of…”

“Hey! I was outta it!”

“Remember slipping this to the bird?”

“What?”

“Fuck you, man. At least you can be a man and own up to it?”

“To the fuckin’ Picasso I drew you last night?”

“This is not a fuckin’ Picasso, it’s a fuckin’ pic-ass-hole. You wrote I was queer.”

“Well, you are?”

“I’m bi!”

“Like David Bowie?”

“Don’t make a joke about this, man. Fuck you.”

“Fuck you. I was drunk!”

“You do this all the time! Fuckin’ everyone’s harassin’ me at work now.”

“Where’s all this comin’ from?”

“From this fuckin’ napkin, you piece of shite.”

“They just playin’ with ya.”

“They’re not. You should hear them, Peter.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Get out.”

“Look at you cryin’ now. Let's go. You're not talkin' anymore?”

“Jerry! Right lane, right lane, right lane! RIGHT LANE!"

***

"Is there something not great about the ending?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. It's got me feeling weird."

"The dialogue?"

"Well, that's all it is."

"Can I have a crack at it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"'Cause it'll be worse."

"Yeah."

"This is it, huh?"

"I think we've hit a brick wall."

"Ah, shit."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You leaving for good?"

"We wrote one good..."

"We wrote many."

"See ya."

"Always forgets the door slams. At least that's done with, aye, Buddy? Whose a good dog? You want a treat? No?... Me neither. Shit...I hate everything about this...Not now. I don't feel so good, Bud. I'm scared. I don't know, Buddy. Are you happy?.. I miss her too. Do you think she thinks of us? I'll be quiet now. It's like a long night of, sorry. My stomach hurts. I'm scared. I'll be quiet now. What should I read?"