Late again.
Where the hell is Ron? We should've been inside half an hour ago.
-God! lt is freezing out here! -Yeah.
l should be home working on my cartoons...
...instead of standing around here like a moron. l'm leaving.
French, you lazy moron! Get back to work! Go! Go!
We can't get to work until you let us in, sir.
No more excuses.
Stop ruining my business!
And smile, damn you!
Did you see the new Weekly Freebie? The cartoons are even lamer than usual.
Lame is too kind.
They're like watered-down Dilbert for born-again preschoolers.
Sir, excuse me. l think l need some help.
No, you're doing great.
l can't believe those cretins are getting published...
...while l'm working myself to death at this lousy job.
-Hey, want to take off early? -Bitchen.
l must say, these are terrific.
Thanks. l'm submitting those to Playboy. And these to Esquire.
These to The New Yorker. And these to Cat Fancier.
That's my backup.
-Andy, may l see your cartoons too? -No.
Kevin, l'm sorry to have to tell you this, but you have sense-of-humor cancer.
That's not fair. l love humor. All kinds. Everything from Wizard of Id to B.C.
Oh, come on. Why can't he see your cartoons?
Fine. Gwen, watch this.
Okay, why is that funny?
-Because she's touching the meat? -No.
lt is a satire of people who say Kafkaesque when a situation is not Kafkaesque.
Well, it would be funnier if the caption said:
''Please, no meat-touching, ma'am.''
So you really think l'm talented, huh?
My jaw hurts. Could l stop praising you for a little while?
-Jim, would you mind feeding Stogie? -There's no more dog food.
Then let's go buy some. l mean, he's eating the couch, for God's sake.
Hey, l think l just found some in here.
False alarm.
lt's getting late. Am l gonna crash here, or what?
-Please. Crash. -Okay.
But so we're clear, you want freedom to sleep around...
...because you're not ready for something serious, right?
Yes. Exactly.
Where are you going?
-l'm looking for something serious. -Hey, no fair! You tricked me.
Finally.
Turn off the alarm and get to work!
But we don't have the code!
Because if you did, you'd rob me blind!
Now, go! Go! Work! Work!
Why must l do everything myself? l need an assistant. Line up.
Let's see.
Woman. Freak. Woman. Vermin. Woman.
-Where is moron? -Hey, what's going on?
You! You are my new assistant.
Ron, l don't have time to be your assistant.
Besides, l hate your guts.
You remind me of son l never had!
Well, l have a son, but l never see him. He's mental or something.
Come!
Women, vermin and freak! Get back to work!
Moron, we go someplace quiet where we can talk.
Ron, l just don't see your store in my future.
The second l start getting paid for my cartoons, l'm gone.
And remember, l do hate your guts.
Come on. l double your salary.
Believe it or not, Ron, not everybody's life revolves around money.
-Some of us have dreams. -Okay. Not just money. Sex too.
See, l buy you lap dance. This seal our deal.
You!
My name is Shelly.
Look, Ron, l....
-l will not sell my soul for-- -Yeah.
That's very nice.
--a promotion or money or strippers or....
Well, okay, maybe strippers.
But nothing else in your twisted, sleazy world, so....
That tickles. So just forget it.
My name is Shelly.
-You like, eh? -Yes. Yes, l do.
But the answer is still no.
Thanks anyway, but l'm leaving. ln a minute.
Nerts.
A bunch of magazines just rejected my cartoons.
You're lucky. l just came from a gallery. Hey, they loved my stuff.
Great, but how does that make me lucky?
l meant, l'm lucky. Sorry.
Andy, you got a package from The New Yorker. Congratulations.
Hey.
REJECTED
Oh, man. They've rejected all my cartoons.
And they ruined them with their big red stamp.
lf it makes you feel better, l don't think The New Yorker...
...publishes a lot of cartoons.
That was my best stuff too.
Stogie, no.
Why can't you just eat your own puke like every other dog?
Hello. Andy, get ready to purr with excitement.
Cat Fancier magazine is on the phone.
-Hello, this is Andy French. -Hi, Andy.
This is Marie from Cat Fancier.
And I just want to thank you for your cartoon submission.
-So you gonna buy it? -Well, no.
But because you're a special cat lover...
...we're prepared to offer you a subscription at our low introductory rate of--
l can't take it anymore!
Thank God. l wasn't looking forward to explaining that to Mom.
Look at those regular people with their regular jobs.
They've given up on their dreams. And they seem happy.
You can't give up, Andy.
-Your cartoons are great! -You really think so?
lt's just your captions that need work. Maybe if you change that caption to read:
''Please, no meat-touching, ma'am.''
Okay. You win, Ron.
l win. l win. l win! What l win?
The battle for my soul. l'm your new assistant.
l warn you. lt's not an easy job. You must have training.
-You must have discipline! -Okay, l'm ready to learn.
That's enough for today. Let's party!
First rule of management: You must look like a manager.
Sexy, huh? You like, no?
l think you just answered your own question.
Hi. Are you looking for Andy?
l am Andy.
l was wondering how you got the keys to the apartment.
What is wrong with you? You don't know who l am...
-...but you think l'm looking for me? -l was trying to do Andy a favor...
...and take a message! l'm sorry!
Holy Krypton! You're wearing a suit.
Hey, cartoonists can't afford suits. What did you do?
l took the assistant manager job. But l'm still me.
Just me with a higher salary.
You're not giving up cartooning, are you?
-No. Maybe. l don't know. -Oh, come on.
What you need is inspiration. Here. l'll do something funny...
...and you draw a cartoon of it.
Let me know when you're done.
l don't know about this promotion. What if l get used to this?
The perks, the easy money.
Then in 20 years, l'll just be some sleazy jerk...
...who devoted his life to selling waterbeds.
Ron bought you a suit and gave you a raise. He didn't buy your soul.
-Yeah. -French, management training!
-And don't forget your massage oil. -Got it!
Thanks, Gwen. l feel so much better now.
Oh, and don't forget to take out the trash.
-Hey, Ron. What's this one do? -Press it. Enjoy.
You really know how to live.
My new fianc�e is here. Shelly!
Ronnie, baby!
-Fianc�e? When did that happen? -Today.
lsn't Ronnie a romantic? The way he keeps putting money in my buttocks?
Finally, a woman l can bring home to meet my mother.
Mother! Get out! We're doing business here.
But, Ronnie, my medicine.
You're ruining everything! Go away!
Come on, everybody. Party! Enjoy!
Hi. Ronnie says such wonderful things about you.
-What, that l'm like his mental son? -No, silly. That you're just like him.
-Oh, God. Am l really? -Well, l don't know. l just met him.
Hey, what about Ron? Your fianc�e?
l'm not in the mood for a threesome.
You know, we shouldn't....
You're so tense. Relax.
l'm worried about you, Andy.
l'm worried about Andy. l found all of his cartoons in the garbage.
Maybe he crumpled them up and threw them away by mistake.
No. l never thought he'd just give up cartooning.
lt made him cool, which in turn, made me feel cooler by association.
lt's like he crumpled up your coolness and tossed that in the garbage.
-Hey, man. Watch it! -Stogie, that's not food.
Or is it?
Come and get it.
Wait! Wait! l can explain. She was...
...having a medical emergency! So she took off her clothes.
And then l panicked. And l took off my clothes.
Stop running away! Come get your breakfast!
You want sliced grapefruit?
So you're not mad that l made out with your fianc�e?
What? l'm proud of you. l did the same thing to my father.
His fourth wife was my second wife. You are just like me.
Maybe l am. Maybe l am.
Mother, get away! We're having a business meeting.
Sorry l'm late, guys.
-Finally. -Standing here forever.
-This is just.... -Burning the old midnight oil last night?
Or were you just rubbing it on each other?
Very funny. Let's go, people. Work. Work. Go. Go.
Congratulations. You've become everything you hate.
Hey, you're the one who told me to be happy about my promotion.
Well, l am happy. l'm finally going places.
Andy, we're gonna be late for my mud wrestling!
See? Lock up when you're done.
Stick shift.
Andy and that woman kept me up all night.
-Me too. -Does sex always sound like that?
No. They must be doing something wrong.
She told me l'd never go anywhere with breasts this small.
What do you think?
lncoming.
-Can l help you, miss? -Yeah.
Where do you keep the cocaine in this joint?
Andy!
-That woman has got to go! -She's not good enough for you, Andy.
-So she'll get plastic surgery. -Listen, man, she's sleazy.
-And not in the good John Waters way. -So this is it?
You're going to spend the rest of your life...
...as the debauched manager of a waterbed store?
Why not? l make money. l have sex constantly.
And no one sends me letters about how much they hate my work.
And you know why? Because l don't do any work.
l'm on top of the world, baby!
But what about your creative fulfillment?
Hey, Ron thinks l'm pretty damn creative. And that is good enough for me.
Andy, they're selling the club. What am l gonna do?
Oh, l'll die if l have to get a white-collar job.
All that typing. And all those complicated telephones and--
Baby, l'm being creative.
So instead of spending all that money hanging out at the club...
...we just buy it. Then we can hang out there for free.
Yes.
Yes. Yes! l want.
Great. l'll set up a meeting with the bank.
America. What a wonderful place.
Just three years ago, l leave my homeland...
...with only a can of herring and a box of ammunition. Now look at me.
Look at us, partner.
Come on, you guys. Aren't you gonna help me celebrate?
l'm sorry, Andy. l'm just not comfortable celebrating your sordid accomplishments.
Yeah. l'd rather just eat in my room.
Looks like it's just you and me, babycakes.
We'll be out of here soon enough, honeybuns.
This place is a dump. And your roommates are all losers.
Especially that guy with the glasses. That's him.
Andy, may l speak to you, please? ln private?
-Hey. What's all my stuff doing here? -l rescued it from the garbage.
Oh, great. You even saved my old rejection letters.
Hey, l never submitted anything to Omni. What the--?
-These are new! -l know.
While you've been pursuing your life of ill repute...
...l've taken the liberty of doing a little submitting on your behalf.
What's wrong with you? l'm about to accomplish something...
...and you wanna drag me back to the past?
You gave up too easily. Your cartoons are great.
Oh, really? Okay, why don't you look at this one and tell me how great it is.
Terrific. l love it.
You have no idea what that cartoon is about, do you?
Well, no. Not really. But l know it's great, because you're great, Andy.
-You're the most talented person l know. -Listen to me, Kevin.
l am not talented, and my cartoons are not great.
They suck. l suck.
l suck. l suck!
You're going through a rough period. Now put down the imaginary knife...
...before you pretend to hurt yourself.
l suck! l suck! l suck!
-Hey, Mission Hill! Andy French sucks! -No, you don't, Andy.
Stop yelling, the both of youse!
l know of at least one publication that doesn't think you suck.
-Really? Who? -The Weekly Freebie.
Oh, they suck even more than l do.
The editor says he loves your work and wants to see more.
Forget it. l'm not a cartoonist anymore.
l'm just dirty old Raunchy McSmutbag. l run strip clubs and date sleazy women.
Hey! How's that supposed to make me feel?
Not women. Woman. Just you.
Oh, Andy. You say the sweetest things.
The lRS thinks l'm dead, so you sign everything.
You just smile real pretty, Ron, and let me handle it.
Okay. Never mind. Just let me handle it.
Tell me, do you have much experience in the erotic entertainment business?
Yes. Yes. Sign. Sign.
Of course we do.
My name is Shelly.
Yeah. That won't be necessary.
Well, your collateral seems to be in order. Who's going to sign?
He is. Sign. Sign. Sign.
Okay. Here we go.
''Kafkaesque.'' Hey, Buzz, check out this cartoon.
-What are they reading? -''Kafkaesque.''
Hey! l drew that. That's my cartoon.
Oh, yeah. My wife and l were laughing about that one this morning.
lf people really understood Kafka's work...
...they wouldn't bandy his name about so carelessly.
-Yeah. -What you doing?
Shut up! Stop laughing!
Sign. Sign!
Andy, hurry up! l want to go to Canc�n. l hate it in here!
Sign, or l kill you!
l can't. l can't do this.
l don't want to devote my life to running a strip club.
Because l am not Raunchy McSmutbag. l am Andy McFrench!
l mean, Andy French. Semi-professional cartoonist!
Well, no reason you can't sign. What is your name?
l...
...left it in the car.
Thanks, Kevin. All your annoying meddling...
-...really did me some good. -And it made you 35 bucks.
Well, you got more than money. You regained your self-respect.
Which will last until tomorrow morning when l beg Ron for my job back.
Jim, you're dripping food on the couch.
Of course! That's why Stogie keeps eating it.
Come on. That's crazy.
Subtitles by BloodLogic
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