With me, surprises are rarely unexpected.
Supplies!
Deck the halls with boughs of hor’ry
Fa-ra-ra-ra-ra, ra-ra-ra-ra
'Tis the season to be jor’ry
Fa-ra-ra-ra-ra, ra-ra-ra-ra
This deck is the only country we have.
Deck Us All With Boston Charlie,
Walla Walla Wash. and Kalamazoo!
We open on Charlie Kaufman. Fat, old, bald, repulsive, sitting in a Hollywood restaurant, across from Valerie Thomas, a lovely, statuesque film executive. Kaufman, trying to get a writing assignment, wanting to impress her, sweats profusely. Fat, bald Kaufman paces furiously in his bedroom. He speaks into his hand held tape recorder, and he says: “Charlie Kaufman. Fat, bald, repulsive, old, sits at a Hollywood restaurant with Valerie Thomas.”
He notices. She’s distressed. He’s concoined! She explains her perdicament and . . . enter the light lunch!
I’ll have what she’s having.
Do you know how many times a week I go without lunch because some bitch borrows my lunch money? Y’know, any halfway decent girl can rob me blind, because I’m too torqued up to say no.
Hi, my name is Bob. I’ll be your robber.
Honey, babe? You’ve got a gun - shoot them.
And now you understand. Anything goes wrong, anything at all… your fault, my fault, nobody’s fault… it won’t matter - I’m gonna blow your head off. No matter what else happens, no matter who gets killed I’m gonna blow your head off.
That gives us exactly forty minutes to get the fuck out of Dodge. Which, if you do what I say when I say it, should be plenty. Now, you’ve got a corpse in a car, minus a head, in a garage. Take me to it.
Keep your goddamn hands off my wife!
You’ve got your hands on my wife’s booby!
Get your slimy, webbed phalanges off ma boots!
Okeeday!
It’s okay, he’s not any more real than you are.
There is no spoon.
Drink your Nehi and eat your Coney Island.