01x08 - Episode 8

[bunniefuu]

Remember Winnie-the-Pooh?

How he smeared himself with mud,
pretending he was a black cloud,

to steal some honey?

But the bees pierced his balloon
and he fell into a thorny tree.

That's me.

People have this notion
that great novels are about them.

Kafka, Camus, Dostoyevsky.

I'm in "Winnie-the-Pooh".

A fake, black cloud.

About to crash, f*cking wrecking
myself and everything around me.

Curiously enough,
everyone sees the costume.

But it seems normal to them.

They know they need to
drag me out of the mud...

pull the thorns out of my butt.

She doesn't know that yet.
She thinks I'm cool.

Frivolous, weird, but cool nonetheless.

She doesn't know I'm a liar.

Who made this?

- Winnie-the-Pooh.
- Yeah, right.

- Is something wrong?
- No.

Everything is fine.

- Do you like it?
- It's delicious.

- Mom's picking you up, right?
- No, Sara's mom.

Sara's?

- Why the surprise?
- Sara's a friend of yours?

From Little Architect,
she's having a birthday party.

- Little Architect?
- Szymon signed me up.

All right, then.
Have a good time, right?

We'll see.

What? Why so gloomy?
Parties are fun.

Yeah, if you act a certain way.

- When you're fun, everything is fun.
- Remember I don't drink alcohol yet.

I know. Good for you.

It's just...

I'm worried someone might
laugh or pick at me...

What? Who would laugh at you?

You know what you should do
then?

Bash them on the head.

- Bye, sweetie.
- Bye.

- Love you.
- Love you too!

I read it.

- Congratulations.
- It's unsaleable.

- What? "Varsaviana"...
- "Varsaviana" is a fossil.

No one even remembers blogs.

Influencers, youtubers are another
story, but blogs... that's papyrus.

- You sold half a million
copies! - Half a million

is the number of copies this has.
For the start.

- Ever heard of TikTok?
- "Tik Tak", tke kids' show?

TikTok. A million people
are following her there.

- Doing what?
- Lip syncing to songs.

What the f*ck?

Franek, you've got an asset.

Your name. As the son of a guy
who's been generating hype for 3 generations.

The second longest entry in
"Urban's Alphabet" is about your father.

Excuse me.
Come to Warszawska, let's talk.

- And the longest one?
- Kiszczak's.

Whatever.
We need to you to come out.

To reveal the author of
"Varsaviana". Only then people will pay attention.

No f*cking way.

Remember who it was attributed
to?

Pilch, Swietlicki, who else?

Maslowska, Zulczyk...
that's what got people hyped.

Not just the book, but the mystery.

Only the mystery burned out.

If we're to do it one more time,
we must pop that balloon.

- I want my royalties.
- I want my book.

- You won't publish it anyway.
- I will. When you get wiser.

See you.

- Czuly?
- Hendrix.

You're some road warrior.

Sad and lonely on an old donkey.

Where's your Dulcinea, knight?

- It gets me where I need to get.
- Cheers to that, bro! Salud!

You're some Charlie Chaplin.

A 3-year-old in a supermarket
sulks like that.

How would you know anything
about 3-year-olds?

Because my sisters
have 5 kids between them?

- My balloon popped again.
- What?

You got to get really dirty...
not to go under.

Someone really popped your balloon.

It just...

You know what I mean.

I wrote about it
on my high school entrance exam.

You always have to know best.

That's right, since I don't look best.

Listen,

I need to know if you're still pining
after that bimbo?

Right. Bimbo.

There's someone new.

Lemme see.

Only...

- Interesting.
- What?

f*ck...

- How do I know her?
- You don't.

They all look alike.

It's cool. I get it.

- You only live once.
- You're nice as f*ck, you know?

I just wish you well.

And what f*cking kind of "well"
do you want for me?

Can you explain it to me?

My treat.

My vision of "well" is one in which
you don't act like a 3-year-old!

All right. See you.

Fuel cell soles
with carbon copy plates.

Very dynamic shoes.

- But ugly.
- Nah...

Everything becomes a looker.

Excuse me.

- Yes?
- Hi, it's me Lotna.

Tonight's off, I'm going out of town.

- Where to?
- The Tricity.

- When will you be back?
- I don't know. Why? Do you miss me?

Have a good time, then.

Does that mean, like, that's it?

Hello?

- Call me when you get back.
- Czuly, listen, just don’t be a baby.

It’s an emergency, I have to leave,
I’ll get back to you...

Bye.

- So, everything becomes a
looker? - That's not all.

Nitrogen injected into the TPU foam
ensures maximum absorption.

Really? Excuse me, they're
k*lling me.

- Yes?
- Did you pick her up from here?

- From this party? Franek!
- Who? From where?

Come on! Nina! She’s not here.
I thought you picked her up.

Matylda, I didn’t pick
anyone up from anywhere.

She's not here. She must've left
when no one was looking.

Okay, bye!

- Where the f*ck is she?!
- Don't do that, not now.

You were supposed to be watching
her! Like f*cking grow-ups!

- They f*cking watch the kids!
- They had a fight,

- Nina hit her in the face and ran.
- We talked about how

Nina likes cartoons
no one else does.

- Nina wouldn't hit anyone for that.
- Let's calm down, this is not helping.

When they came to me,
Nina was gone.

- When was that?
- I don't know...

some 40 minutes ago, maybe.

She likes to vent in the woods.
There's a grove over there.

Maybe she lost her way...

Or got scared. I'll check there,
and you search the neighbourhood.

- We've done that.
- Then f*cking do it again!

Franek... Take the flashlight.

Thanks.

Nina!

Nina!

Nina!

Sweetie, what have you done?

Nina!

She is not there.

Right... Go home,
Szymon will go to our place,

and I'll stay here.
I'll call the police.

- Let's check the other side...
- Go home! Go.

Just keep your phone on!

Dad...

Nina!

Don't you ever do that again, understand?

I'm sorry!

- Do you realize how upset we
were? - I didn't mean it.

- Where...? How did you get
here? - By bus.

- How did you know which bus?
- I used the app.

App yourself!

You're all wet. Take that off.

Put this on.

You know it wasn't a smart move, right?

Why'd you do it?

Because I hit that girl.

Why?

You said if someone laughed at me
I should bash them on the head.

But you can't take it literally.
You're not stupid.

I was mad. I still am.

- Because...?
- Mom said not to tell you.

Because...?

Because she doesn't want you
raising hell.

I won't.

Remember when I asked you if you'd
stay with me for a month or longer?

I do, what about it?

You'll have to.

Mom's pregnant.

I'm going to have a sister.

I guess it's not the worst thing
in the world, right?

Are you glad?

I don't know.

- Are you scared?
- A bit.

Nina...

Let's go.

Your shoes.

I'll walk you downstairs.

Congratulations.

I was afraid...

I was afraid to tell you.

Don't have to be afraid of me, Matylda.

You can hate me...

you can take me for a lousy father, but...

don't be f*cking scared of me.

I don't know.

I don't know anything anymore.

It's just...

I think I ought know
about such stuff because...

my life... it will change too, right?

It would be nice if it did.

I'm sorry. I'm not blaming you.

You don't need to,
I blame myself enough...

Funny, right?

What's funny?

When I see you, my first thought is...

"I like this guy."

I still do, despite it all."

- How much do I owe you?
- Franek, hold on.

Keep that.

How's your relationship
with your father?

Withdrawn, why?

Listen, maybe you could chat
with him?

Talk him into painting these walls.

- I'd write off all your debts.
- What?

If he decorated the place.
Made it a unique work of art.

Decor.

A Marriott restaurant owner
had the same idea once.

- And?
- Dad spat on his shoes.

Oh, come on.

Talk to him.

Decor...

- Hungry?
- No.

- Come, eat something.
- No.

I'll pack some cake for you.
My good, plum one.

OK.

For f*ck's sake...

Sorry.

You're disrupting my work.

Is that your son, Staszek?

Handsome.

Sorry.

Listen...

I've got debts.

Nothing new.
You've always had them.

You know, it's from the cafe I...

If something happened to me, Nina...

Nina is secured for her lifetime,
you know that.

What the f*ck is this about?

The present owner wants you to...

decorate the place with your murals.

She'd write off my debts and...

you'd make... I don't know,


In dollars?

I guess it's negotiable.

Do you know how much they
pay me in Tokyo for taking a dump?

- That's your answer?
- That's my answer.

Who the f*ck do you take after?

Lusia! Let's continue.

What's the moral of
"Winnie-the-Pooh"?

Well...

Every reader has their own.

Mine is as follows:

while looking for honey
you can get splashed with mud.

Contrary to Winnie,

when I'm all in f*cking mud,
hungry and humiliated,

sooner or later I always
stumble upon a jar full of honey.

Laura Blask.
She'd always hang around writers.

Telling herself she was their muse.
And I guess she was, in a way.

Hi.

Or maybe she just loved their
money?

Are you that writer’s
girlfriend?

Hi.

I thought pink would be the best.

Depends what he has done to you...

Are you interested in it?

I can tell you.
Shall we go...?

And then... she told me.

You're all like bulldozers.

- What?
- Just going forward.

Why you need eyes at all
if you don't look?

You don't see anything!

- Who are you talking to?
- "And I'm made out of thousands

shreds of glass,

glued with a prayer".

- Oh Jesus, was that the
writer's? - No.

I wrote that myself.

But the car was his.

No worries, then.
He can afford a paintjob.

That's the thing.

He can't. Gambling, child support,
debts. Money!

- I know the type.
- Everything's for show.

I was for show too.

He fired me with a text! A text!

But you don't treat Laura Blask
that way.

- It's just wrong!
- I know, you're right.

- It's wrong!
- You're right.

Because...

I made of a thousand shreds of glass.

And they're all sharp.

He told me...

he told me this poem is shallow.
And corny.

Can you believe he said that?

But he bought me lots of clothes.
Now I said: "Give them to your ex."

- Do you know what she told me?
- Who?

His ex. I went to her place.

And she says to me...

Finally, he found a nutcase
as crazy as her.

- That's what she said!
- No. - She did.

- She didn't mean it.
- That's what he'd call me, too.

"Crazy witch!
"Stop texting me, witch!"

"Crazy witch!" That's all you
can say.

"Crazy" and "Witch."
This pathetic fear from toys...

Little boys! Go on,
build your skyscrapers!

Dig, bulldozer!

- Yes?
- It's me.

- My client has bought the flat.
- Excuse me?

My client has bought the flat.

I'm sorry. You've got 24 hours.

Bye.

- I think you need to go.
- Of course I do.

You're all just the same.

I have to move out, now.

You are only my dream, anyway.

When I leave, you'll disappear.

I hope you're right.

I have no idea
what to do with all that.

What can you do?

It's not your kid. Not your business.

Nina is my business!

It's going to be tough on everyone,
there is no going around it.

I know, I know. Life is tough, I know.

You have to do everything to
help her.

I know all that,
but all of this, it's...

It's too much, you know?

I've got more than 100 sq metres
just to myself.

It's not a courtesy, dummy.

- It wouldn't be a problem.
- It would f*ck everything up.

How?

I'd lose a friend.

- You're full of sh*t.
- I'm not.

I'm scared.

OK...

I'll have the company guys take
your stuff to our warehouse.

If you're to become a bum,
at least don't carry all that.

- Thanks. - "Thanks, Ela."
- Thanks, Ela.

Have you changed your mind?
Or are you still being stupid?

Born stupid, I'll die stupid.

I've got to close
the publishing plans.

I'm reaching out to you.
With money in my hand.

You want me to admit
to writing those books.

To writing those books, right.
And that new one.

That wasn't the plan.

You're just afraid to show your face.

Because it's not too pretty.

Then find a f*cking prettier one.

If I don't get a "yes" by
tomorrow, we're over and you won't see a penny.

Check him out.
I don't think I like him anymore.

- He's a good customer.
- And a good writer.

- For f*ck's sake!
- Chill! - Sorry.

Karol, I need a keg!

- How long do I need to wait for
a drink? - Technical problems.

- I was talking to him.
- Until you show me your ID.

I was at your birthday party.
You're his buddy, right?

You're all so f*cked!

You heard him.
ID or I'm calling security.

- You're all f*cked.
- What?

You're all totally f*cked!

All of you!
We're f*cking coming for you!

What is it?

- I've got no place to stay.
- Now you tell me?

It happened today.
I didn't know flats sell so fast.

- A place like that sells in 20 minutes.
- Apparently.

- Move in with me.
- Oh, come on.

I've got an extra room,
it can be rent free for a month or two.

- But...
- No "buts".

- Back to work. Don't drink!
- Because...?

You don't want to be moving
with a hangover.

Now it's working.

Bye.

- You're... Your lips are so...
- Excuse me.

- Do I know you?
- I work here.

Oh, right. Come on, Lola.

- Can you spare a minute?
- What is it?

- I know who you are, I respect that.
- Right, to the point.

There's this deal.
A nice... nice buck to me made.

- How much is nice for you?
- You're in a hurry, right?

You know that book was f*cking crap.

Seemingly sexy, but not sexy at all. Gibberish.

Who'd want to publish it?
Because the sequels didn't sell at all, right?

- Now I believe you.
- And I don't f*cking believe you.

Listen, you want me to admit
to the whole country

that I've written that book?
Plus the one that's not even written.

- Right.
- Right.

- And what's in it for me?
- Money. A lot of it.

- And for you?
- Money. Some.

- You'd save my a*s.
- I've got money.

No, you don't.

You followed a barman on some bullshit.
You don't have money.

You've got large debts.

I wrote "Varsaviana."

I know all about what's going on
in town.

Do you know what my father said
when I told him I wanted to be a writer?

"Is there money in it?"

And there is, see?

Go to him and brag.

I can't.

When he was dying, he said:
"You're not so dumb, Kuba, I like you".

He never said that before.
"I like you".

My father is still alive.

Alas.

Shall we make a buck?

And when the cycle is complete,

when you shake the leaves
and pull the prickles out of your a*s...

Don't ask.

You hear the bees again and you
think: "f*ck me, it's honey!"

- You've been drinking, right?
- I'm a serious guy.

And you know
you're going to get it this time.

You run home
to cover yourself in tar.

You stop at that halfwit
Piglet's to borrow a balloon.

Because this time it's going to work.
For sure.