Duality

marstark:

tornadodream:

Just as backup. In case it gets fucked up sans-Dan next season. Not that it still couldn’t be brilliant, but you know. Just in case, emergency plans yall.

THE LAST SCENE EVER:

INT: FANCY RESTAURANT

It’s a mostly empty restaurant. A couple gets up, leaving, LAUGHING. The DING of silverware being put away can be heard in the background. Obviously, it’s late, the restaurant is getting ready to close.

But there’s one table still occupied: JEFFREY WINGER sits alone, shoulders slumped, eyes hooded. He’s dressed to the gills in a well-pressed designer suit. He’s nursing a tumbler full of scotch.

A young WAITER approaches, and we see that it’s TODD. He’s smiling amicably, too perky.

TODD: Would you like your check, sir?

JEFF looks into his drink, smiles drunkenly.

JEFF: Would… I like my check? That’s a great question. Because what do we really want, Todd? Do we ever really know what we want?

TODD: Um, well. I kinda want to go home to my daughter. She turned two today.

JEFF: Shut-up, Todd. No. The answer is no… we don’t ever really know what we want. Or maybe what we want is all a lie. Because what did I want? I just wanted to get out this stupid school unscathed. I wanted a piece of paper that said, “I hereby give Jeffrey Winger permission to live the awesome life he was already living with lots of money, a badass apartment, hatred for his father, and the ability to sleep with a woman and not feel so full and strange and good all at the same time.” I didn’t want to have this pack of crazy maniacs getting me in trouble and making me change my mind about things. I didn’t want to have some girl in a cardigan tell me that she thought I had something inside my heart. I didn’t want some kid who’s somewhere in the autism spectrum convincing me that “the perfect timeline” is when I finally forgive my father because he’s learned to forgive his father about felafels or something like that.

TODD: There’s other timelines?

JEFF: NO. No. What I wanted was that stupid piece of paper and I wanted a steak dinner and glass of scotch to drink all by myself at the end of this terrible, awful school.

JEFF holds up his glass. A little bit of scotch sploshes out and onto his tie. Yeah. He’s still pretty drunk.

It’s QUIET. Like eerily and awkwardly quiet.

TODD: Well. Here you are. It seems you got what you wanted then, huh?

JEFF’s face: It’s a moment of sobriety. No longer the rage and alcohol clouding his expression. Clarity: he’s realizing that got exactly what he wanted. And it sucks.

JEFF: Yeah. I guess I did.

We pan away, he’s sitting there. It might end now, we’re not quite sure. Maybe we didn’t learn anything, maybe people don’t change.

But then:

TROY’S VOICE: Traveling Wilburys of Pain, reporting for duty.

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I think I’ll actually be disappointed if it DOESN’T end like this.