Previously on Californication...
No one wants to publish your book.
That's a big fuckin' bummer.
I could really use an influx of cashish right about now.
Runkle, quit beating your meat.
Hank Moody, Sue Collini.
- Becca's dad, right? - Yikes.
- Chelsea's mum? - Hey, speak of the she-devils.
- Can I go over to Chelsea's? - Actually, stay for dinner.
Hank Moody.
I'd like to introduce you to Richard Bates, the writer.
- He's going to be teaching here this year. - Big fan.
- Drink with me. - (Stacy) Ten years' sobriety,
- down the drain. - Fuck me.
I can't afford to keep paying rent and mortgage at the same time.
OK, I'll move back in.
- This can't be right. - It's within his rights.
Oh! Yes!
You're the dean of this fine institute of fancy book learning?
Correct.
Who wants to see me tuck and do the pee-pee dance?
Let's get your clothes.
What about Bates? Is he gonna be able to do his thing?
From rehab? I doubt it.
You wouldn't happen to know of any other bad-boy novelists
looking for a teaching gig, would you?
(Whistles)
(Muttering gibberish)
Mm!
- Yes, Marcy. - How are things at work, Teach?
Excellent question, Cougar Smurf.
Aside from the fact that I generally loathe young people, it's a pretty cush gig.
We're keeping our hands off the young nubiles, are we?
Please. Teenage girls are greatly overrated.
Present company excepted, of course.
Of course.
Are you OK over there? Are you stroking out or something?
- Whatever do you mean? - You're grinning like a mongoloid.
No, I think I'm just feeling grateful.
- This seems like old times, don't it? - Here we go.
Truth be told, I remember the food being a hell of a lot better.
What about this steak? Tastes like prison ass.
Becca. Miss.
You're not eating. What's wrong with you?
- Nothing. I'm on a diet. - What?
Hey, you are a beautiful young white woman. Remember that.
- You do not need to be on a diet. - Dad, I could easily lose ten pounds.
(Gasps) Your mother would kill me if you develop an eating disorder.
I like me a big girl.
Yeah, before Marcy here, most of my girlfriends were somewhat zaftig.
I remember. Your apartment was like half off at Lane Bryant.
That's right. That's right. Big and getable. That's the way I liked 'em.
And then old half-pint here came along...
Oh, God. Please cut the sweet talk, will you? We're not together.
We're living together. There is a huge difference.
Hey, hey. I have made my intentions known.
- Love will find a way. - (Doorbell)
No, no, no, no. Sit, sit! Relax, eat, enjoy.
Mwah. I will get it.
I'm sorry, my Nubian brother. We're right in the middle of dinner.
- We're not interested this evening. Ta. - Not interested in what, exactly?
Whatever it is you're selling, brother.
Let me guess. Magazine subscriptions?
- I'm here for Marcy. - Marcy? My wife?
I'm here to pick up Marcy. For our date.
Hi. Thank you!
See you around, my... Nubian brother.
(Man) "The shy, talented vampire looked up to his centuries-old mentor.
"Even in the twilight of his eternal youth,
"the old man was wicked-smart and roguishly handsome,
"a glint of the devil flickering in his beautiful, undead eyes.
"The young vampire knew there was much to be learned
"from his blood-sucking mentor.
"How to live, how to feed, how to fuck.
"But the boy was hungry.
"Ravenous, actually.
"Soon he would have to feed, and feed he would.
"The moronic frat boys that mocked him on a daily basis
"were good for something, at least."
(Clears throat)
(Coughs)
Uh... I... I'm just, uh, texting with my daughter.
It's the only time she actually acknowledges my existence.
OK, so what about Balt's story?
I heard something about vampires and frat boys and come, so I'm half-chubbed.
How about the rest of you spoiled rich kids?
Someone?
Anyone?
Bueller? Bueller?
Bueller. What say ye, Jackie?
He's my roommate. He'll get mad at me.
Maybe, but ultimately he'll thank you
for having the balls to say something of substance.
OK.
Well, I've told him a thousand times he needs to drop the vampire bullshit.
It's stupid. You're not a fucking creature of the night, Balt.
- Says you, slut. - See? What'd I tell you?
- Anything else? - Well...
Uh, there was an awful lot of talk about fucking, but no actual sex.
That kind of bummed me out.
Well, it is possible that longing for something is better than actually having it.
I've heard it said that satisfaction is the death of desire.
Interesting. Do you need a tampon? I think I have an extra in my purse.
Ow. Whoa. Look at the time already.
- Wow. - Actually, there's 15 minutes left.
Which is why I will leave you with this.
I can't teach you how to write,
and anybody who says they can is full of shit.
The only thing I can do is write about the shit that excites me,
the shit that gets me hard.
So, Balt, if you want to write about vampires
drinking each other's blood and come and whatnot, by all means, go for it.
Write the shit out of it. Don't be niggardly with your emotions.
Just run it up the flagpole and see who salutes, OK?
Now get the fuck out of here.
Go read a book or something. Preferably one of mine.
You know, I try not to think about it too much,
but I could have been TA-ing for Richard Bates right now,
and that would have been a real education for me.
I was doing my thesis on him.
Yeah, and then you had to go and knock him off the wagon.
But look how it worked out for you. You get to learn at the feet of a master... bator.
Oh! Clearly.
- Oh, hi, Felicia. - Hi.
- How's it going, Professor? - In a word? Awesome.
Ooh. Interesting curriculum.
Ah, look at that. I sound like a fuckin' retard.
No. Don't be so hard on yourself.
But you might want to erase it before word spreads through these hallowed halls.
Academics can be vicious.
At least I'm not tucking my dong in class.
Not with my pants off, anyway.
Have you taken the sexual harassment seminar yet?
Yeah, I had Jill take it for me online.
What? What?
- (Sighs) - It's like traffic school.
Uh, David Curran wants to know why you gave him a C.
OK, I'll bite. Why'd I give him a C?
You know, as your TA, I'm happy to read the students' material and suggest a grade,
but, you know, you're supposed to read it also.
What do you think of Jackie?
- You think she's hot, don't you? - I haven't thought about it.
- But now that I have, yeah, she's smoking. - You're old enough to be her father.
Well, sure, I could be, but I'm not.
And I have no interest in making sweet love to her
aside from the general interest that all men have in making sweet love to all women.
You know, I don't think I can be your TA any more.
- I understand. - You do?
You find me irresistible.
(Chuckles) That's close.
- I find you irritating. - Careful. That's how it starts.
The mother of my problem child would say the exact same thing. Seriously. Watch it.
Has a woman ever punched you in the face?
You know what? You should use me.
- Really? - Mm-hm.
Mm-hm. I should use you. I'm... I'm frightened.
As a consultant in your search for worthy companionship.
I, Hank Moody, am a prime example of how the male noggin works.
Say you're out on a date with some dick,
he does something you can't quite decipher, you call me up,
I'll tell you what it meant.
Thanks, dick. That's a great idea.
- I'm gonna think about it while I'm peeing. - Tinkle, tinkle.
(Knock at door)
Professor Moody, uh, can I have a word?
I suppose so, but I was thinking of ducking out and catching a movie.
But I guess not. Office hours and whatnot.
Come in. Have a seat.
- Call me Hank. - Thank you, Hank.
I changed my mind. Call me Professor Moody.
I'm just fucking with you. Not really.
- What do you want? - Look, I need to know...
- if I'm a writer. - Mm!
Jesus Christ, kid. Who am I to tell you that?
Well, you're my teacher. I respect you, and I think you're an awesome writer.
- Thank you. - I've read all your books. Cover to cover.
I love your picture on the back, by the way. It's very handsome.
Thank... you.
You're the mentor, you know? In my story?
The young vampire has a crush on the old one.
It's you. It's a metaphor.
I'm the old vampire. Fantastic.
Come on, Hank... Professor Moody.
Brutal truth. I can take it.
- Brutal truth, huh? - Mm-hm. Absolutely.
Your story was bad. It was terrible, in fact.
It was like that lame Twilight bullshit.
I have no patience for that crap. It's not writing. It's like bound toilet paper.
I'm not saying you won't get better if you keep writing, because you will. No question.
But I am saying that if you can do anything else with your life right now,
anything at all, I think maybe you should do that.
Cos the world doesn't need any more lame vampire fiction.
You know what I'm saying?
- You with me, amigo? - I think so.
- Brutal truth, right? - Uh, right.
Teaching's not so hard.
I feel bad. He was clearly crushing on me.
- Maybe I led him on. - (Charlie) Hm? How so?
Maybe I was sending out signals.
- Fuck. Maybe I'm gay. - Hank, please.
- We're all gay. - What the what the?
- I'm serious. - Yeah, I know, and it scares me.
All right, let me put it this way.
- If we were trapped on a desert island... - I don't like where this is going.
It would only be a matter of time before I was putting it in your pooper.
Hey, I may be easy, but I am not sleazy.
Besides, I don't really see myself as a bottom.
Fine. You put it in my pooper.
- My fist, maybe. - Whatever floats your boat.
My point being, we're just animals.
Perhaps, but this animal prefers the warm, cosy confines of the female vagina.
But faced with a severe vaginal drought, men will be men.
Boys will do boys.
You've given this a fair amount of thought, haven't you?
It's like when you were a kid, OK?
- You know what I'm saying? - No, I do not.
We've all got a gay experience or two in our back pockets.
Oh, OK. All right. Now I see where you're going.
- OK. What's yours? - Oh, no, no, no. You first.
- No way. Bald before beauty. - All right. You know? Fine. OK.
So when I was growing up, my best friend was Mike Metz.
- Mm. Mike Metz. - OK, sometimes we would undress,
we'd lay down on the bed, and just, you know, touch each other's bodies.
- It wasn't gay. - Sure.
- It wasn't even sexual. - Mm-hm.
It was, you know, very loving, act... It was just an expression of our friendship.
- Mm-hm, mm-hm. - That's all.
Interesting, you and I are friends
yet you've never asked me to get undressed and touch your body.
So what's yours, big boy?
You tricked me, didn't you? You miserable fucking bastard.
- You keep that one close to your vest, OK? - Of course. Of course.
(Marcy) Oh, Jesus. You're gonna rape me, aren't you?
(Man) You bet your sweet ass, rich white lady.
- I'm not rich! - Bullshit! You own a salon. Don't lie to me.
(Marcy) Oh, my God. Put that thing away.
- That big, thick, purple thing! - That's right. You better recognise.
It's a one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple white-woman eater.
- Oh! - And I'm gonna split you like wet pine.
- Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. - (Grunts)
Aaargh!
- No means no, you know? - Charlie!
- This the surprise you were talkin' about? - What are you doing?
What does it look like I'm doing? I'm saving you.
Saving me from what? I'm fine!
No, you're not fine. You're being raped!
I am not!
You were too.
We're playing a game.
A game? What kind of game?
Some kind of sick, twisted, plantation-days kind of thing?
Hey. Watch it, motherfucker.
- It was a fantasy, Charlie. - A fantasy?
A rape fantasy.
A rape fanta... That is just sick, Marcy.
Sick? I'm sick?
After all the twisted, depraved shit I've seen you do?
Don't you dare judge me, motherfucker.
Oh, God. I think I'm gonna puke.
Good!
Dean Koons wants to see you.
(Coughs) Hit?
I'm good.
Hey, guys.
Thank you. Thank you.
- For what? - I heard you wanted to see me,
which must mean you want to congratulate me for the kick-ass job I've been doing,
so I just wanted to say... you're welcome.
- It's been my pleasure. - This is no time to be glib, Hank.
How can you be sure?
I'll handle this, Stacy.
There's been an incident.
OK, well, look. "Niggardly" is not a racial slur.
And, in fact, one might say that y'all have been niggardly
when it comes to financial compensation pour moi.
- I'm just saying. - Are you done handling this?
Because we are dealing with an idiot man-child.
"Oh, me love her too much.
"Me pet her too hard. She no wake up!"
(Groaning)
A student of yours tried to commit suicide last night.
Shitness. Wow. Who?
- Chris Smith. - Chris Smith?
Chris Smith. Ah, he's not one of mine. (Whistles) Thank God.
- No, his friends call him Balt. - Balt? Fuck, I know that dude.
Did he seem despondent at all?
More importantly, his roommate said he had returned from meeting you.
He did stop by... my office-es.
Well, what was discussed?
- Life... Love... Vampires and shit. - We're not attacking you.
- We're trying to work out what happened. - Feels like you're attacking...
- It's pretty clear what happened. - Stop being so condescending, Stacy.
Why don't you just tender your resignation right now?
Spare us the trouble of an investigation.
You want to handle this, Stacy? Fine. Go right ahead.
Just leave me out of it.
Someone's sleeping on the couch tonight.
- Good jelly beans. - Look, Hank...
I know you're not exactly what anyone would call an education professional.
Or a professional of any kind, for that matter.
But my wife went out on a limb for you.
She loves Becca. She thought it would be nice if her father was gainfully employed.
(As Popeye) Ah gah gah gah gah gah!
- That being said... - Gah gah gah!
That's an antique.
If I find out that you said or did anything to push that poor kid over the edge,
I'll make it my life's work to make sure you never step foot on this campus again.
Do you understand me?
Do I have your ear, Hank?
You have beautiful blue eyes.
- Are you high? - I gotta run. I'll talk to you later.
(Sighing)
All work and no ass-play makes Chuck a dull boy.
Just trying to earn my keep, Sue.
What do you say the two of us knock off early, huh?
Slip out of this business casual, nude-up in my jacooze,
see what kind of sodomy laws we can break?
Sounds like the height of decadence, Sue.
But I should probably get through this slush pile.
Who knows? I might even find something good.
Who knows? You might find something better in my punani.
Yeah. Warren Beatty's lost Rolex, maybe.
(Laughs) Oh, you are a dirty dog.
I like your style, Runkle.
Hey, can I ask you a question, Sue?
The answer's yes. I would love a face-ride.
(Chuckles) Seriously.
Do women ever fantasise...
about... being raped?
- Are you trying to get me wet? - I don't think so.
Yes, Charlie. Women fantasise about rape.
- Really? - Mm-hm.
And my own features... a handsome stranger.
Think Jack, circa... The Postman Always Rings Twice,
sneaking into my bedroom and taking me in my sleep.
He pulls down my panties.
He enters slowly.
Slips right in. Oh, Jack.
The pussy never lies. Remember that, Runkle.
I kick, I scream, but it's too late.
I mean, the juices are flowing. The train has left the station.
We are headed for a big, fat, rocky orgasm.
Oh, sweet Jesus, guide me.
Are you trying to tell me something, Runkle?
Are you thinking about some role playing?
Because you name the game, I'll play the part.
And I'm good at it.
I used to run lines with Margot Kidder.
Before she went apeshit.
Try me sometime.
(Clears throat)
Wow. Look who's here. What's up, asshole?
That's no way to address your teacher, young lady.
Is that what you are? A teacher?
I was thinking more like a destroyer of hopes and dreams.
- Is he gonna be OK? - Maybe if you put your fuckin' cigarette out.
He's fine. He got depressed and he drank all the cold medicine he could find.
He's such a fuckin' queen.
- You came. - Course I did, buddy.
- How you doing? - I hate myself, and I want to fucking die.
- Oh, been there. - I doubt it.
What could you possibly know about being a fucked-up gay kid?
We're all... gay.
In... in some form or another.
We've all had a gay experience in our past or two.
- You too? - Oh, hells yeah.
Tell me about it.
Well, when I was a... when I was a kid,
barely a teenager, my best friend and I, Mike Metz,
yeah, we would, uh, we'd get undressed...
Don't stop.
Right. And, um, you know,
we would... we would lay in bed together...
naked, um...
touching each other's...
naked bodies.
You know, just... And... and it wasn't, like, uh, sexual or gay,
but just more of a...
more of an expression of our profound friendship.
See, I don't know.
It sounds pretty fucking gay to me.
It does sound gay.
You know what?
I'm sorry if I bummed you out.
But you got to cut me some slack here.
I'm pretty new to this teaching thing. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.
You know what I dug about your story? There was one line I loved.
"The twilight of his eternal youth."
Really dug that. Stuck in my head.
I polished that one for a while, actually.
Mm. Polish it.
Well, shit. I gotta get to work.
- Think you could stay with him for a bit? - Oh, no, I have, uh...
I got to... I got to run too, so...
Yeah, I can.
- No. You know what you can do for me? - What?
Give her a ride. She took the bus all the way here.
God knows, she's too hot for that.
I wouldn't want her getting raped on my account.
That would be most unfortunate.
Come with me. My rape-proof chariot awaits.
Later, pale skin. I hope you feel better.
Keep scribbling.
- No kiss goodnight? - Oh.
Bye, honey.
Huh? Charlie!
What the fuck are you doing?
What does it look like I'm doing? I'm raping you.
Get off me, you fucking asshole!
- Do you love it? - No! Stop it now!
Because I love it. This is so not consensual!
- (Punches) - Oh! Ow! Ow.
Ow. Ow.
Ow.
Fuck!
What are you thinking?
I guess I thought it was something you might enjoy.
And maybe in the middle you'd be like, "God, I really do love this schmuck."
You thought that in the middle of raping me I'd realise how much I love you?
Something like that. Yeah.
But it sounded a lot better the way I said it.
And, just to be fair, you know, it was a rape fantasy.
- For you, maybe. - OK.
Well, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. My bad.
Sorry. These are yours.
(Sighs)
(Hank) This is where you work? (Jackie) Yup.
But you just work the front desk or you're the cashier or something like that, right?
- Something like that. - Interesting.
You want to come inside? Maybe wet your whistle?
- Would that involve seeing you naked? - Oh, most definitely.
Then, no offence, but I think not. In the interest of student-teacher relations.
Wow. Look at you with the moral rectitude.
- I'm impressed. - Me too.
- Thanks for the ride, Prof. - Any time.
Well, you know, not... not any time. I don't think this is the best habit to get into.
You were right, you know? He's a shitty writer.
Someone had to tell him.
Parents tell their kids they can be anything they want when they grow up,
but that's not true, not for everyone.
Sometimes that can fuck you up a lot more
than someone telling you you can't do a goddamn thing.
Besides, you can't really teach writing, can you?
- You're a smart kid. You know that? - Damn straight.
All right, I got to go shake my money-makers.
- OK. - Have a good night.
You have a good night too. I hope you get, uh, lots of singles... I guess.
- Or fives, or... Benjamins? I don't know. - All right.
- Bye. - Bye.
- Hey, where are you going, short stuff? - Out.
Out, you say? Out where?
- Just out. - Just out? I'm not familiar with that area.
The promenade. I'm meeting Chelsea.
Oh, not so fast. How you gonna get there?
I don't know. I'll walk or take the bus.
- Did you even think to ask? - I didn't think you'd care.
- Well, sorry, honey. Looks like I do. - OK. Good to know.
- So can I go? - No.
Why don't you stay in with me tonight?
You know, we'll... we'll watch a movie. Pop some corn.
The promenade will always be there. Unfortunately.
Yeah, sounds like a good time, but I think I'd rather go out.
Well, I... I think I'd rather have you stay home. How 'bout that?
Got it. Loud and clear. So can I go?
- Asked and answered, Becca. - Why?
- Because I said so. - Because you said so?
- Because I said. - Jesus.
- Who are you texting? - Chelsea.
- To tell her you're being a total dick. - What is going on with you?
When did you become such a little snot?
- That is not funny, Becca. - It's funny to me.
- (Glass shatters) - I fucking hate you!
Yeah, and I fuckin' hate you too, you little shit.
(Door slams)