No Alternative (2018) Script

Tell me about your experience the other day at school.

I was hanging out before first period

when for some reason I started focusing on this girl

and how she was breathing.

It sounded like bagpipes.

Like a big bag of bagpipes just squeezing itself.

It's like I needed to hear her fat breaths, so that I could breathe myself.

You know...

Then, something snapped.

My legs fell out from underneath me.

I was like on a rollercoaster, Freefall at Six Flags.

Everyone was looking at me.

So I ran into the bathroom and into the cafeteria and started crying.

It didn't stop for the next three classes.

What inspired you to emerge?

I don't know.

I want you to try this.

It should help with the social unease.

You can take it with the Prozac, it shouldn't be a problem.

Fucking hell.

Can you play softer?

Not really, loud is kind of the point.

Your mother has tinnitus.

You have one hour.

Turn that shit back up, man.


So, Bill. Tell us about work.

I had kind of an interesting arraignment this week.

The defendant, a Dina Rangerajan is being accused of attempted murder.

Apparently, the woman and her husband, Vikram, were playing a game that the prosecution referred to as "kind of kinky".

In the game, one of the players would be blindfolded and handcuffed, and would have to guess what object was touching them.

When it came time for him to be handcuffed and blindfolded Rangerajan stabbed him twice in the chest with a paring knife.

-Jesus. -Oh no, it gets a lot better.

She puts him in the car, insisting of course that it was an accident, drives him to the hospital, but doesn't go into the emergency room.

No, she parks around the block and then stabs him again, this time puncturing his heart.

-What the fuck? -Bridget.

When the police question her, she tells them that the husband came home, and he was already stabbed.

But then the cops tell her that Vikram is still alive, and he told everyone about the game and the stabbings.

-Pretty crazy. -Yeah, well what's really crazy, the guy ends up living and now he's defending her in court, saying that she has bipolar disorder and it's not her fault.

May I be excused?


Anyway, I set bail at $500,000.

Any plans tonight, Thomas?

Just hanging around Bronxville.

How's your application to Georgetown going?

It's good.

Have you sent them all the materials they require?

Mr. Macron sent his recommendation this morning.

Good. Good.

I'm at the Beasty Boys concert in the Pit, and she's flicking her hair around me, she's sticking her ass up all on my junk, next thing I know I'm in her parents bedroom on fucking 5th Avenue.

Were her parents home? Who knows where the hell they were, but they should've been. You know those warning stickers on CDs?

There should've been one on this girl.

Parental advisory, your daughter is a fucking whore.

Douche? Yeah, it is vanilla, toasted.

-I'm going to take a piss. Breaking the seal already?

-You're going to be pissing all night.

Douche bag, I hope your piss burns!

So, you're that dark loner who comes to parties and doesn't talk to anyone?

Dude, you don't know how many girls I get doing this.

-What's the song? One of mine.

Ever thought about joining a band?

-I'm looking for a singer. -Do we know each other?

You're in my English class, right?

Oh yes. Well, here's some English for you.

Guys, I barely know how to play this thing.

That doesn't stop most of the bands we like.

I can teach you as you go along, man.

I have a song that's four chords.

-That's just what we need. -It's one too many if you ask me.

It's a love song, call it "Chumin".

A love song about chum?

Chum is what love carves you into after it's over.

-I kind of like it. -Yeah.

And then I changed it up in the verse.

I think I might have a good intro.

You're home early.


The lady that stabbed her husband, I didn't think she'd make bail, but she did.

I put a restraining order on her, but...

Last night she went home and stabbed her husband and her daughters to death.

Jesus Christ.

The family is sending in a lawsuit, they're blaming me and my quote, "Premature decision to let this troubled woman free".

I'm so sorry.

What one crazy person does is not your fault.


What are we going to tell the kids?

We'll tell them what we always tell them.

Tell them the truth.

I don't think that's a good idea.

Is Bridget having dinner?

She said she's not hungry.

I think she should sit at the table.

Let it be, Bill.

No. No, I will not let it be. Goddammit!

Your father had a bad day.

No shit.

Please come down to dinner.

-What? -Please come down to dinner.

Fuck that.

You pay a price for that.

I loved those headphones, they were like a part of my head.

Well, not anymore.

Well, Thomas. How was your day?

Had to be better than yours.

Guys, check my move.

-You guys got a great crowd. Yes.

We didn't get a great crowd. Opening for "The Incinerators" got us the good crowd.

-Zack's brother is the bassist. Dude, that's awesome.

-Nepotism, so anti-establishment. -Ain't it, though?

Why did you bring me to this shit hole if you were just going to leave?

Maybe the fucking shit hole is you, and I don't want to hang out anymore.

-So, where are you going? -So I'm fucking leaving.

-What is your deal? -Don't fucking touch me.

Yo. Hey, bro, it's about time you got here.

This show's so fucking lame.

Hey, chill out, my brother's a black belt in jiu-jitsu.


Yes. Me.

Let's get out of here.

You are a waste of fucking time.

Fuck off. Oh, shit.

-Thank you so much, man. I owe you one. -Yes, no problem.

They're about to go on, you want to go in?


You want to check out the other bands, dude?

You want to go for a drive? Maybe get some beers?

-You got a car? -Yes.

Yes. Sure. Don't worry about your friends.

Okay. Charlie, don't cross her.

I'm Thomas.

I'm Jackie.

Are you all right?

I'm better than all right.

Shit. Fuck. Get dressed.


-Hi, officer. License and registration.

Step out of the car.

Hands on the car. Any weapons in there, miss?

No, Chris and I were just having fun.

All right. At ease, son. You can turn around.

Mr. Thomas Harrison.

Any relation to judge William Harrison?

Do you know him?

Sure. Voted for him. Twice.

-Never heard of him. Of course you haven't.

You know, he's in some hot water. Should have never released that crazy cunt.

I don't think it was her vagina that was crazy.

You're right. Sorry, pardon me, miss.

Have a good night.

Fucking asshole.

Bronxville cops suck the biggest dicks.

Okay. Pull over right here. Try to be quiet if you can.

-Is this where you live? -No, it's a friend's house. She left the back door unlocked.

Her parents are clueless.

Can I call you?


Thomas, wake up. You have to drive your sister.

You have to drive your sister to school, I already told you this.

School? On a Sunday?

She's running a booth at the Fall Festival. Come on.

So, what's this booth you're running?

Kissing booth.

Oh, really? -No.

Just something dumb from our class.

-Sounds fun. -Not even close.

You can take my place if you want.

You know these girls?

Yes. They're in my class.

They're sophomores?

Mhmm...They're a bunch of posers.

You want to come inside and buy some drawings?

We're raising money for retards.

We got band practice.

God, you're wasting your time with that stuff.

How do you know?

¶ I'm through ¶

¶ You always take for granted those things I do ¶

¶ with us it's always the stupid bullshit lies ¶

¶ You never really tried To let me understand Those things you do ¶

¶ And when I close my eyes I still love you ¶

¶ And when I look inside It doesn't matter ¶

Fuck, man.

Oh, hey, sorry.

Thomas, a minute please?

Yes, sure.

I'll be right back.

-Is it something I said? -Dude, come on.

-Well, I didn't do it if that's what you're thinking. -I know you didn't do it.

-Did you notice anything? Did you hear anything? -We've been practicing.

Maybe if you spent less time making noise and more time focusing on reality...

Bill, please.

Oh God.

When public officials are threatened, it's a security risk.

I'll cut right to the chase. I got a handgun.

As much as I hate the idea of bringing a gun into this house, the Chief of Police recommended that I carry one.

I've been issued a government carry permit, and a standard 45 caliber pistol.

Your mom and I thought you both should know.

Does this have to do with the woman who killed her family?

Yeah, yeah it does.

I understand. I'm cool with it.

This is so not cool.

Shootings are 10 times more likely to happen in a house--

Please don't lecture me on crime statistics.

Fine. Just, please don't shoot me by accident. That's all I ask.

-I doubt it it'd be by accident.

This is not a joke.

Bridget, you almost done? -Just a minute.

Wearing that shit doesn't make you look like him.



Who says I'm trying to?

You okay?

A million bucks.

What's up?

Graffiti, and Dad getting a gun.

His job has some risks.

Dad needs to see that we can deal with it.

What if I don't know if I can deal with it?

-Doesn't it bother you? -Yes, sure, it bothers me.

He'll be okay.

Fuck it.

- Hello? Hi, is Jackie there?

May I ask whose calling?

This is Tom Harrison.

Hold on.


Hi Jackie. This is Tom Harrison.

-I know you are. -Okay.

I wish you'd told me you're going to call me.

How could I've told you I was calling, without calling?

-It's okay. -Anyway, the reason I'm calling...

I was wondering if... maybe you wanted to go on a date with me, like a real date?

Sure, but, I should probably tell you something.



Thanks for being a sport.

I feel like a fucking pedophile. -You're not.

Maybe we shouldn't do this.

Who cares what my parents think.

Not here...

Please don't tell anyone about this...

About... my parents.

Your secret's safe with me.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Open mike night at Slave To The Grind.

We've got some interesting folks for you tonight.

First up, someone new to our stage.

Born and raised in Harlem, moving rock and pimpin' hoes.

He's come to spit his styles, ladies and gentlemen, Bri.Da.B.

Yo, niggas.

¶ B-R-I, D-A-B aha ¶

¶ I'm not a player But the ladies like me ¶

¶ I make one dollar, Two dollar, three, four ¶

¶ Don't try to stop me, I'll make five dollar more ¶

¶ Harlem life like wasn't Giving me nothing, aha ¶

¶ Now every night I eat turkey with stuffing ¶

¶ I got the gravy on top Mixed with the greens ¶

¶ I got the peas and carrots And mama beans, yeah ¶

¶ I keep the ladies Laced with zirconia ¶

¶ Their response is Baby, let me go, yeah ¶

¶ I keep the streets Alive and lit ¶

¶ 'Cause my 89 Honda ain't Never going to quit, no ¶

¶ Being a big dicked man Was never easy ¶

¶ Now got the one, two, three baby for shizzy

¶ The ladies are attracted To my dirty foreskin ¶

¶ I'll hit you from the back Just let me in, yeah ¶

¶ I ain't a player, I just crush a lot, ahh ¶

¶ I like my fish And I ain't going to stop, aha

¶ My dick is fat, Ready and right ¶

¶ So get in line, bitches But don't fight, aha ¶

¶ Bri.Da.B. ¶

Thanks, bitch.

You're fucked in the head.

Nope. Never been fucked there.

That was so punk rock, I can't even handle it.

Bullocks or shite.

Everybody in there takes themselves way too seriously.

If it's not grunge, or whatever they call it, they couldn't give two shits.

I'll go watch the trains, want to come?

Uh... Okay.

People don't realize he was a prankster.

The guy wore "corporate magazines suck" T-shirt on the cover of a corporate magazine.

The record companies are all looking to the next Nirvana, never say anything so from Seattle. Wearing thermal underwear and shit?

The reason people wear thermal underwear in Seattle is because it's fucking cold and wet there all the time.

Kurt used his music to react against conveyor belt, the crap that the AEs dished out only to become exactly what he was reacting against.

Must have hated himself for it.

No thanks.

I quit. Been sober eight months.

Now that's punk rock.

Where do you go to school?

Sarah Lawrence.

I'm majoring in surrealism.

What ever happened to surrealism?

It was an anti-art movement.

It was developed in reaction to the rationalism that led to World War I.

It was a no pun intended, an alternative to the formalistic painting of the time.

Perhaps, Bri.Da.B. is a surrealist.

I knew it.

-So you get in her pants last night? We watched a movie.

Did you get in her pants?

-She is in my fucking sisters grade. -Oh, shit.

So did you or did you not get into her pants last night?

Yes, maybe.

When do you turn 18?

A couple of months.

Are you guys serious about this band or what?

We need to start rehearsing twice as much.

When we're not rehearsing, we need to practice on our own every day.

We also need to work on those hooks.

Elias, you're the front man, work on those vocals, that rasp.

-Yeah, I'm trying to get rid of that rasp. -No dude, use it.

Labels are looking for that post grunge sound, pop music with dirty vocals.

Yes, but, there is 10,000 other bands that sound exactly like that.

Not yet, we need to move on with this, dude.

I agree.

All right guys, check this out.

Tom and I were talking.

If we submit a demo and they like us, we get to play in a battle at the Capital Theater.

Winner gets a record deal.

Alternative rock, it's got to be original. Those are the two rules.

We haven't even played a frigging gig yet, man.

All we got to do is record one song, man. That's all they want.

We don't need a gig, Elias, what we need to do is record.

-We're not ready. -We can do this.

This Capital Theater gig is the gig we want.

It's the gig that will get us somewhere.

That's the goal, isn't it?

We can work out the kinks in the studio.

Jer, what do you think man?

I'm down with it.

Sweet, okay. Heads up!

Golding is saying something very specific about conflict itself, and since Lord of The Flies was published less than 10 years after the war, the author is likely saying something about the war itself.

The boys were split into two groups, those born during the war and those born after the war.

There is this duality in the text, just like there is a duality in all of us.

I hooked up with your brother. I've done better.

We have no choice. We told you if you lose control again we're going to send you back.

Your father and I can't take it anymore.

I'm not going back.

You need proper care.

We can't give you the supervision you need.

-What's going on? -Go-- Let me handle it. Go downstairs.

I'm not fucking going back!

That's not your choice to make.

Fuck you! -You need to fucking relax.

No, you fucking bitch.

I hate you, you fucking bitch. Get out!

-Get out! -Don't you fucking touch her!

Touch Mum like that again and I'll kill you.

Go downstairs now! Now! Now!

I hate you.

I hate you.

I don't understand what's wrong.

She is...

She's been on antidepressants since she was eight years old, if you can believe it.

Done everything we could to shield you from it.

She has our legs, but she's never figured out how to use them.

Now you-- you had some of the same, I mean, similar issues when you were a kid.

But, I mean, you learned how to deal with it.

Because you have discipline, Thomas.

Your sister, she's just different.

What did you say to her?

Nothing. I was just joking around, typical girl's shit.

My sister's manic-depressive, she can't handle jokes.

I realized that. She punched me in the fucking face.

I'm really sorry that happened, I am.

My family's been going through a lot recently.

It's okay.

William has been experiencing work-related--

A particular decision that I made has been criticized publicly.

Oh, yes. I've read about it.

The fact that it is coinciding with my run for the Supreme Court...

Let's just say it hasn't been very helpful.

Bridget, how has this affected you?

In the very least it's been kind of exciting.

When I lie down, I can't think about anything else except why I'm not sleeping.

I can't even remember the last time that I had a dream.

Mhm. Anything else?

The only thing that I can say for sure, is that most of the time, I can't feel anything.

It's like the world is just one big ball of pudding.

And I'm stuck in the middle of it.

I am confident this can be solved with medication, and I hesitate to send Bridget back to the hospital. She's been making progress.

I think I'm going to take her off Prozac, switch her to Zoloft.

It's new. Let's see how she reacts to that.

Let's start her on Neurontin it's a mood stabilizer, smooth out the Zoloft.

As for the insomnia, I'll prescribe a sleeping aid.

With half dosage to start and monitored, we'll see where we stand in a month.

Sounds like more pudding to me.

Are you sure all of these prescription drugs are the answer?

She's been taking them for years and we're still having these issues.

Medication remains the most effective treatment.

¶ ¶

I don't know. I think Nirvana's kind of a dumb name.

It means heaven, right?

Yes. Yes, pretty much, but what's punk rock about heaven?

Hell is way more punk rock.

What if we called ourselves, "The Saints"?

I shouldn't-- I think, there's a punk band in New Zealand, -or Australia or something that has that name. -Shit.

We could call ourselves, "The Latter Day Saints".

Why "Latter Day"?

We're the fucking future.

-Hey, you. -Hey.

I'll leave you two kids alone. Keep your--

-How are you? -Good.

-Where's Thomas? He's out with his friends.

-Can I go hang out with them? -No.

I know what they do.

-They find a place to hang out and drink beer. -Well, if that's the case, then maybe some neighbor will have the good sense to call the cops on them.

Oh, fuck!

¶ ¶

I haven't seen anything John Travolta's been in since Look Who's Talking 3, but I'm saying, this tops that. When he stabbed Uma Thurman in the chest with that needle, I thought I was going to pass the fuck out.

That scene's a rip off of Martin Scorsese's documentary American Boy.

Verfuckingbatim dude. Neil Diamond's manager, the movie's about him and he tells this really fucked up story about giving a girl, a girl who OD'd, an adrenaline shot the size of a canon to the heart.

Same goddamn scene, same dialogue.

So, what? Am I ever going to watch that film?

No. I don't watch anything made before 1986.

Top Gun is my absolute limit.

Bridget? What's up? -What's up, guys?

Do your parents know you're here?

-Do your parents know you're here?

-Shut up, dude. -Is my brother around?

Your big brother's a little busy right now, little sis.

Usually, drumming's the one thing I can do without thinking.

It's like, I can just shut my brain off and do it.

But, I don't know, I haven't been able to do that lately.

You see these two fingers? I can't fully extend them.

It's fine holding the drumstick, but you can't play a power chord.

I always wanted to play the guitar.

What happened to them?

When I was younger, my dad coached my soccer team.

He told me he wanted me to play goalie because he could rely on me.

And I dove for the ball once, and jammed them into the post and cracked them up pretty badly.

He wouldn't take me out of the game and I wanted to tough it out for him.

We won.

Hey, check it out.

-I got it in the city. -Do your parents know?

You must be stoned.

I know what you can do with those fingers.

Rape me. I give you permission.

Jackie, you can stop coming on so strong. I know you're not really like that.

What if I told you...

What if I told you, I want you to be my first?

What if I told you the same?

911. What's your emergency?

Hi, yes. I would like to report some troublemakers causing a ruckus down at the field by the Boy Scout cabin.

What kind of a ruckus, ma'am?

The kind that involves guns and minorities.

¶ ¶

My favorite part was when that fucking gimp popped out.

-I'd like to own a gimp. -I didn't really get it.

Too much violence and dialogues, and we're this, and we're that.

Someone should tell Quentin Tarantino he's not black.

-Why don't you give him a call there, bud?

-Fuck. -That's bad.

Stop there, maiden. I will take you to safety.

You'll get us both caught, you fucking idiot.

¶ ¶

Fuck. Get dressed.

My parents are going to kill me.

Not if they don't catch us.

Hiya. Party's over.

Could there be leeches in here?

I'm more worried about the rats.

Turn around and get your asses back over here.

What are you going to do, shoot us?

Oh, what's this?

Well, I don't know.

It's a misdemeanor, at least.

¶ My daddy's a Republican, His daughter's a pig ¶

¶ I got dreads in my hair And I walk with a limp ¶

¶ Supreme Court ain't nothing When you live in the hood ¶

¶ The ladies want your dick And they want your goods ¶

Alright gentlemen, so I looked into booking some days at Four Trees.

It's a studio upstate. -Saratoga?

Yep. I figure we can go up, take a weekend.

No distractions, just music.

There's an apartment downstairs underneath the studio where the bands crash.

Sounds cool.

What's up, Jeremy?

Where have you been?

-Jail. Are you fucking serious?

Fuck, yeah. -Yes, I got caught with pot.

I'm probably going to get it reduced to possession, but still, my mum is super fucking pissed.

Dude, maybe I can talk to my dad, see if he can do something?

No, don't worry about it, dude, I'm not.

Something good came out of it though. I wrote a song.


Ah... I disappeared into my head, I guess to escape the shithole that I was sitting in, and it took me away back to Mexico.

When I was there last year over break, when Leslie broke up with me.

We're on the beach, making out for the last time, and I could feel her face.

Our tears mixing together. It was like it was all happening all over again.

Even the way the blood dripped into the sand after she left.

It all came back to me.

Except this time I could write about it instead of doing something stupid like cutting my wrists.

¶ The rusted bars inserts in pain ¶

¶ The brightest smile You toss my way ¶

¶ It stung my eyes Until I cried ¶

¶ Melted the bars The devil died ¶

¶ The time has come To take my hand ¶

¶ And through my heart You sent a sign ¶

¶ A warning not to rearrange ¶

¶ A life I've sworn Has been too strange ¶

¶ The time has come To say goodbye ¶

¶ The light of your smile Never bends ¶

¶ Too good for me, I'll keep in mind ¶

¶ Reality can't help but fall ¶

¶ Quick to stand You're in my reach ¶

¶ I'll walk with you Until you're safe ¶

¶ I played it safe Until the end ¶

¶ And know that I found you finding me ¶

It's good, man. It's great, dude.

¶ ¶

In October of 86, CBS anchorman Dan Rather was assaulted by two men on Park Avenue wearing suits and sunglasses.

Rather was thrown to the ground, and one of the men started kicking him, and asking, "Kenneth, what's the frequency?"

Rather was confused, he didn't answer and they ran off.

Why didn't he just tell them?

No one ever caught them.

I did a little bit of research, and I found the guy in an upstate prison who claims that he did it.

He claims he's from the future.

This guy, he says that everybody in the future has a double in the past, and he'd just mistaken Rather for his future double, Vice President Kenneth Burrows.

He's convinced that the news media is beaming hostile transmissions into his head

-to prevent him from returning to his own time. -Where are you going with this?

Michael Stipe said this about it, "It remains the premiere unsolved American surrealist act of the 20th century."

And, then, REM wrote their song about it.

Stupid song.

Well, I put the lyrics in my thesis.

It's not that bad.

Are you okay?

I don't know what's happening.

Nobody understands.

The best artists were the most misunderstood.

I'm not a fucking artist.

What-- what's the one thing in your life that you're most afraid of?

Dying alone, or never having found true love.



I'm not gonna say it. - Just say it.

Fine. I promise not to look at any other girls. Are you happy now?

- Yes. -The studio is in the middle of nowhere. Now you say it.

- Say what? Say it. I got to run.

Okay. I won't look at any other girls. Bye.

Bye Jackie-o.

-Are you going to hang up? -No, I hate hanging up first.

I like hearing the click. Gives me closure to the conversation.


¶ ¶

Mom, Dad, I'm leaving.

Wait, wait, wait, wait. Not until you open this.

Dear Mr. Harrison, Georgetown University's Admissions Committee

is pleased to inform you of your acceptance into the class of 1999.

Yay, wonderful work.

You have my legs.

You have my father's legs. They carried us a long way.

I want to show this to the guys.

We'll celebrate when you get back.


Bye. Bye.

Good morning.

Yeah, doing good. Got some sleep.

I got into Georgetown.

Nice. Congrats, man.

Parents are really happy.

What's going to happen to the band when you go away?

If I go away. Let's win the contest first.

What do you think of Jerry's song?

It's a number one.


But he can't sing.

-Jeremy wants to sing the song. -I know.

-Yo, I've been hitting this shit. No, no. I'm straight.

I know you're straight, I want to know if you want to hit of this marijuana.

-I'm cool. -You're definitely not cool.

-Yo, stick it up your ass, Cheech. -Give me some of that.

Carefully, your dad might see you and throw your ass in jail.

Does it look like I care?

It's good, right? -Tasty.

Fuck yeah. All right, let's get the fuck out of here.

That asshole, didn't put his blinker on. I hate that shit.

In fact, I don't think there's anything I hate more than that.

I think you should be allowed to hit people when they don't put their fucking blinker on.

-It makes a lot of sense. -Put the fucking blinker on.

Let's get on the road.

¶ ¶

Hey, babes. We got to stop at the movie theater and buy a ticket.

-My parents wants to see a stub. -Your parents suck.

Who's going to be at this party anyway?

You mean the party we're going to be late to, because we have to stop and buy tickets for a movie we're not gonna fucking see?

-Yeah, fashionably late? -What do you care who's going to be there?

-Don't you have a boyfriend? -What boyfriend?

¶ ¶

There's a lot of people in there.

Word of mouth, that's how it happens.

Maybe you shouldn't drink before the show.

Maybe you should shut the fuck up.

¶ ¶

All right, sounds good, boys.

I'll compress the drums, beef up the low end.

You can crunch the rhythm guitar a lot more on the mix, all right?

Give me some time, I'll set up vocals.

-Thanks man. No problem.

You want to go do some vocal exercises?

Smoke cigarettes?

¶ ¶

Fucking hell!

We really going to start thinking about how to sell ourselves, guys.

-Yes, right. -Really. If we're serious about doing this thing right, we got to have a signature sound.

A voice that ties all the songs together, you know.

That means a single lead singer.

What are you guys trying to say?

-We think Elias should sing everything, including your song. -Why?

The business side of the band is just as important as the music, and it's what allows the music to be heard, you know.

That's so wrong, the music is all that matters.

This is standard stuff, man.

If someone writes a song and they want to sing it, they can sing it.

This competition, this is our chance to get signed.

Record companies are not looking for multiple singers, they want that one voice to market, and Elias has that voice.

What about the Beatles, someone signed them, right?

It's fucking ancient history, dude.

Elias sings most of the songs anyway.

It just makes sense he sings all of them, right?

This isn't personal man, it's just the business.

This isn't fucking business to me, this is my life.

Elias is a better singer.

It's about time you wake the fuck up and realize it.

Really, Thomas, who the fuck are you to judge?

You sound like a fucking pussy.

Hey, that's enough.

No, let me finish.


You sing like someone who tried to off himself, but didn't have the guts to do it right.

That's what you sound like.

Pull them off man, man!

Tom, relax dude.

It's your voice that nobody wants to hear.

-Dude, what the fuck is your problem? -He hit me first.

He had every right to hit you for saying that bullshit.

You want to fix another garage band, wasting our fucking time?


I did not see that coming.

Thanks for coming to Slave To The Grind.

Back by popular demand, he is here to spit some sweet love and drop some pants.

Ladies and gentlemen, Bri.Da.B.



Here he is, everybody.

This here's off my new album Around the Motherfucking World which is for sale right outside for five bones.

Why smoke the rock when you can smoke yourself some motherfucking Bri.Da.B.?

This here is "Pimp Tooth".

¶ They call me Pimp Tooth They call me Sucker the Toe ¶

¶ They call me time after time While I'm working my flow ¶

¶ They call me Eyebrow And rugged one at that ¶

¶ They say, Chump Finger, Give us rum and make it fat ¶

¶ They call me Lip Nose ¶

¶ They call me Fucky, the dick ¶

¶ They call me Nose Hair ¶

¶ They call me Slick Finger Rick ¶

¶ They call Limp Note. They call me Crusty-eyeball ¶

¶ They call me Pubic Bone ¶

¶ They call me Leggy, the Tall ¶

¶ They call me Bunny Toe ¶

¶ They call me Strand of Hair ¶

¶ They call me Licky Tongue ¶

¶ They call me Brussel Supper Fair ¶

¶ They call me Nipple Tit ¶

¶ They call me Ass of the Shit ¶

¶ They call me Bend-a-Knee ¶

¶ But most of all ¶

¶ They call me Bri.Da.B. ¶

This next one's called "Nigga Wack".

¶ The rusted bar Inserts in pain ¶

¶ The brightest smile You toss my way ¶

¶ It stung my eyes Until I cried ¶

¶ Melted the bars The devil died ¶

¶ The time has come To take my hand ¶

Where do you get off using the word "nigga" in your raps?

Sit down. She's a big girl. She can speak for herself.

My name is Lincoln, after Abraham Lincoln, see it?

My mother named me that because her great-grandparents were slaves and he freed them.

He freed them so they wouldn't have to be called "nigga" no more.

Let me ask you a question then, Lincoln.

If you're named after a white man, then why can't I take on the persona of a black man in my music?

That's two completely different things, and I bet you know that.

You have no idea what it means to be a black man in America.

I love rap. If it helps me express myself the same way that you express yourself, then isn't that good for both the white and black people?

You don't understand what that word means to us.

All right. Well, then if rappers I listen to, stop using "nigga" in their music, -I'll stop using into mine. -It's not your word.

It's not your place to decide that.

Chill the fuck out, honky. Grab yourself a vanilla latte.

-You just call me a honk? -I'm a white chick. I'm allowed to use that word, right?

You crazy ass nigga.

On the house.

Enjoy it.

¶ ¶

Great job, man. You killed it.

So, what's the name of the song?

It's called "Turbulence".

You should be proud of the song, man. It sounds great.

I am proud of it. I was proud of it when I wrote it.

I'm proud of you.

Get off your high horse.

I'm not on any horse.

I like sea horses.

I like that a male sea horse carries the eggs, and gives birth to the baby sea horses.

Takes the pressure off the female.

I'm sorry, that was stupid.

It's okay.

I want you to come to an AA meeting with me.

I go every week, you don't have to participate or say anything, just sit and listen.

You know, get to know me a little better, Stuart.

Find out that I don't like people telling me what the fuck to do.

I'm not telling, I'm just asking.

Fuck off!

What the hell are you doing?

Going home, Stuart.

-Yo. -Hey, man.

It's funny, I had like 10 cups of coffee today, blackest black, and my urine is crystal clear.

Why is that? Yeah, man, I'm...

Great job today. Really though, the drums sound tight.

-Thanks, man. -Yes.

-You too. -Thanks. All right, dude.

What the fuck is that?


-Would you like to come to church? -No, thank you.

See you later then.


-How long will you be gone for? -Couple of hours.

-I love you, Mom. -I love you too. See you later.

-Mom? -Yeah?

Never mind.

I quit.

¶ ¶

He'll come around, man. He'll change his mind, just watch.

No, he won't.

You okay, man?

Jackie is seeing someone else.

What? Why would you think that?

It's true, I'm fucking embarrassed.

But you have to promise to keep it between us, all right?

Yes, of course.

There is something growing on my dick.

Kind of like a fungus.

Shit, man.

It's really freaking me out.

Why don't you get it like checked at a free clinic, or something, you know?

Can you take me? I don't want my parents to know.

There's one on Central Av.

Jesus Christ! Bridget?

Bridget, where are you?

The kettle's boiling, didn't you hear it?

Put that cigarette out.

Your father and I thought we'd do a little shopping, care to join us?

Yeah. I'd like to get some new paint.

I think I'd like to paint these trees.


I was diagnosed with genital warts.


I suggest you get yourself to a clinic and get checked out.

Don't worry, they can burn them off, but it stings like a bitch.

Thomas. I'm so--


¶ ¶

Hey, everybody. It's time to announce the next band to place

in the top five of 102.7's battle of the unsigned fans.

With their song "Turbulence", it's The Latter Day Saints.

I wish he was here to enjoy this. -Yeah.

I watched The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan show when I was a kid.

I was about your age.

It was the best thing I ever saw.

They sang "Help".

John Lennon singing that song for hundreds of teenagers bopping up and down.

Their only worries stretching as far as the bubblegum they stepped in before the show.

I look back on it now and I see this... wounded young man, pouring his heart out on that stage.

His voice filled with pain.

Pleading for help, but nobody in that audience can hear him.

It's a misunderstood song.

Stewart here has been encouraging me to attend a meeting and however resistant I was at first I now see this as an incredible opportunity.

After years of struggling I've now made an informed decision to take myself off of all prescribed medications by my head shrinker of a doctor.

Yeah... Because you know, it's like, so what is the point of living if you can't feel a fucking thing?

Bridget, if you're depressed, we can help.

No, because you see these shrinks they've cornered the market.

You know, they're running circles around your average crack dealer and I have been their guinea pig for far too long.

So, for today, and today only, I present to you, the target demographic for such stimulants, sedatives, and mood enhancers, an outrageous deal on a number of the finest pharmaceuticals that money can buy.

Zoloft, 100 milligrams, good, good stuff. Any takers?

How could you let this happen?

I took precautions.

-Well, I didn't think this was going to happen. -To him?

I don't know if I can do this.

The only difference between me and your brother was... I was lucky.

My parents blame themselves for what I did to myself.

But really...

No one knows what anyone else feels.

You just got to keep going, keep living your life.

All alone is all we are.

I think I owe you an apology.

That time that you got arrested, it may have been my fault.

Actually, it was my fault.

Oh, Well, then I guess I owe you a thank you.

¶ ¶

-Hey, you guys are Latter Day Saints, huh? -That's right.

Heard your demo, "Turbulence" is name of the song?

-Yes. -I like it.

Your suits. My name is Trevor Underwood.

I'm with A & R Atlantic Records.

You guys have a good sound. Good luck, boys. We're watching.

Hey, you guys are straight to VHS.

¶ ¶

Good evening, let's please welcome to the stage with their song "Turbulence", The Latter Day Saints!

Do you want to know what grunge means?

It means dirt, filth, rubbish, something of inferior quality, trash.

An example, he didn't know good music from grunge.

Do you want to know what's really grungy?

My big brother.

Play a song!

He blew his brains out with my father's gun.

And before today, I might have told you, if you want to stop pretending, if you want to prove that you're punk rock, -if you want to prove that you're alive... Right.

Then commit suicide.

-Maybe that's the only punk rock thing left to do.

But the world has moved on and it's ready for something new.

Something different than the music that meant so much to my brother and his band.

My brother Thomas is dead.

Your saints and your angels are dead.

Grunge is dead!

I'm Bri.Da.B.

And you all can kiss my black ass!

¶ ¶

¶ My daddy's a Republican His daughter's a pig ¶

¶ I got dreads in my hair And I walk with a limp ¶

¶ Supreme Court ain't nothing When you live in the hood ¶

¶ The ladies want your dick And they want your goods ¶

¶ At work Daddy puts Thugs in jail ¶

¶ Little does he know that I'm paying their best prize ¶

¶ Daddy dear, Baby's doing the do ¶

¶ Better watch out She's gonna come in front of you ¶

¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶

¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶

¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶

¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶

¶ Don't you try to snap A gun in my face ¶

¶ I'll hit you with my gap And put you in your place ¶

¶ How do you like me now All grown up ¶

¶ I play football for my dick Don't need no cop ¶

¶ So lock me up And throw away the key ¶

¶ I'll be hitting on those ladies in security ¶

¶ I'll be hitting on those ladies in security ¶

¶ I'll be hitting on those ladies in security ¶

¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶

¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶

¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶

¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶

¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶ ¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶

¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶ ¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶

¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶ ¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶

¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶ ¶ My daddy's a Republican ¶