INT. PSYCHOLOGIST’S OFFICE
We discover RICHARD lying on a couch. Ziggy is in mid session
with his patient. He is taking a porn mag out of his
briefcase. He opens to a fantastic page, showing it to
RICHARD:
ZIGGY
So…this does nothing for you
either?
RICHARD
Nah, man. Nothing.
ZIGGY flips to a particularly orgiastic page:
ZIGGY
(With a great flourish)
What about this?!
RICHARD
Okay. I’m paying you bank here for
you to help me with my problems,
and all you can do is sit here and
show me porn? You think I didn’t
think about that? Come on, I am a
man!
ZIGGY
Hold on…I think I’ve got it!
ZIGGY takes out his laptop, giggling to himself. He types in
a website:
This is perfect for your problem!
ZIGGY clicks “play” and turns the laptop to Richard. It’s
porn.
RICHARD
Ah, for fuck’s sake, man!
ZIGGY
Yes, Richard. “For ‘fuck’s’ sake.”
ZIGGY grabs to porn mags from his briefcase. He starts
flipping the pages in front of Richard’s face. This lasts a
bit until ZIGGY starts making grunting and squealing noises.
RICHARD
OK. Stop. Will you? Will you
fucking stop? Stop it. What’s with
all this porno shit, Dr. Ziggy?
ZIGGY does a airplane of porn to RICHARD’s face. As RICHARD
knocks it away:
RICHARD (CONT’D)
Get that shit out of my face, man!
ZIGGY drops the magazine. We hear the noises from the
computer still going on. RICHARD shuts the laptop. ZIGGY is
inspecting RICHARD very closely now:
ZIGGY
It’s somewhere. (Beat.) Ah ha!
ZIGGY sits next to RICHARD. He puts up a barrier between them
consisting of the couch’s pillows.
ZIGGY (CONT’D)
Harumph. (Nothing.) Ahem.
(Nothing.)
ZIGGY takes his foot and starts to run it up RICHARD’s leg.
RICHARD
What the fuck are you doing, Zig?
ZIGGY
Richard, I am trying to help you,
but you must help yourself, too.
You say you have troubled assets.
This is my speciality. When you
think of your mother, what do you
see?
RICHARD
You see, Doc, I think you are on a
completely different planet. I’m in
charge of troubled assets, the
relief program.
ZIGGY
Ah, yes. You are in charge. All you
have to do is get over your
performance anxieties.
RICHARD
Finally! I know, the economy’s just
been tanking. Every time it starts
going up, BLAMMO, something happens
and it plunges to all time lower
depths. And everyone comes to me
asking for more money. Wishful
thinking motherfuckers, cover your
asses to begin with. You know what
I’m saying?
ZIGGY
Yes. Have you ever thought about
covering yourself up. You know,
giving yourself some private time.
Perhaps you need ultimate
seclusion: Cover yourself with a
tarp and Go to Town!
RICHARD
No, man. I am TARP. I can’t cover
myself up.
ZIGGY
Ooooh. Very interesting. Yes, I
see. You are all the grime and
filth that pours from your own
body. You create chaos and wallow
in it. Your mother is there,
sitting naked in a conch shell by
the beach.
RICHARD
What the fuck does my Mom have to
do with it? And fuck you man. I am
not filth and chaos. I’m trying to
give order back, prevent a true
calamity from taking place.
ZIGGY
Is it a calamity to have relief?
RICHARD
No. I am giving out money to
companies that are failing. Jesus,
you Germans are some crazy
motherfuckers!
ZIGGY does not tolerate anyone speaking ill of the
motherland. Improvised yelling match goes here.
It ends with RICHARD in tears. ZIGGY gathers himself.
RICHARD (CONT’D)
You never listen to me. You’re just
like my Mom.
ZIGGY
Mmmhmm.
RICHARD
I feel so much pressure from the
world. I just don’t know what to do
with the stimulus package. Everyone
wants a piece of me.
ZIGGY
I see.
ZIGGY begins placing the mags back in front of RICHARD.
RICHARD
Help me, Ziggy.
ZIGGY
(gathering a blanket and placing it
over RICHARD.) This is your tarp.
It covers you from the world,
hiding all your wounds, just like
you were covered when you were in
your mother’s womb. It absorbs
everything that is unclean to keep
you pure. I am not here. (ZIGGY
opens the laptop and presses play
again.) You are in charge.
RICHARD
I know, Ziggy.
ZIGGY
And since you have insulted the
motherland, I am afraid I cannot
allow you to call me by my special
name any longer.
RICHARD
Yes, I’m sorry. Thank you Dr.
Freud.
ZIGGY
Now, Dick…you don’t mind do you?
RICHARD
No, Mom used to call me that.
ZIGGY
Dick, lay back and dream of health
care.
RICHARD
(jumping up) Health care?!
ZIGGY
Yes, Dick. (handing RICHARD the
bill for services rendered) Health
care.
Ziggy packs his briefcase and starts to leave. He stops short
though, of one magazine. He hands it to RICHARD and patting
him on the back, he leaves. THE END.
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