it this way: no.
Come here, Tommy.
You won't learn anything by quitting.
Turn that thing off!
Damn you!
Screw you. Do you understand that?
When will you understand that
I hate that shit-kicking music of yours!
Shit-kicking!
Did you hit him? Did he hit you?
Shit, yes, he hit me.
-You hit him?
-You're damn right I did, and he needed it.
-That's what guys who hit kids always say.
-For Christ's sake.
I don't know what you expect from him.
I expect him to do what I say
when he's in my house.
Why should he? All you do is criticize him.
-I what?
-I was hoping you'd be an example for him.
Like you were?
You're a hell of an example.
I damn well try to be.
That's why he's got the foulest mouth
on any kid I've ever seen.
-When does he ever hear me swear?
-You spoil him rotten.
That kid thinks he can do
whatever he wants to do...
whenever he wants
and wherever he wants to do it.
So do you. You're just as selfish as he is.
You want what you want
when you want it.
I really don't think
you understand kids at all.
You do?
What is that supposed to mean?
-Forget it.
-No, I won't forget it!
How dare you tell me
how to bring up my child!
How dare you! Where are your children?
I know exactly what I'm doing!
Yeah, you do. That's why you can't
make up your mind about your kid...
your job, Monterey, or me.
You're wrong. I just made it up.
Aren't you going to open the door for me?
Come on, Tommy, get in.
What are you going to do, walk 10 miles?
Get in, dope.
-Now what?
-What do you mean, now what?
You said we'd be in Monterey
by my birthday...
we'd get there,
and everything would be fine.
-We'll get there.
-Said the waitress in Tucson.
What's wrong with being a waitress?
I'm supporting you with it, aren't l?
-For God's sake, we'll get there.
-You never ask me what I want to do.
-Sure I do. We're in this together.
-When you say so.
Who the hell do you think you are, buddy?
I said we'll get there.
If you can find a job,
if it pays more than $50 a week...
and if you don't get involved
with another maniac.
Who cares? I don't give a damn.
If you open your mouth once more...
I swear to God, I'm going to nail it shut.
I'm warning you, Tommy. I mean it now.
I'll stop the car and push you out,
and you'll walk the last mile home.
All right.
Out. Get out.
Go. Walk.
My dad was a bastard, all right.
He used to make me bend over
while he whipped me with his belt.
I still think about going up to him
and saying:
"All right, Harry, bend over.
You're going to get the belt for that."
Yeah, mine was a bastard, too.
Or I guess so.
I don't know.
You going to be going to school
in Tucson?
No. My mom says
we're going to Monterey.
Monterey? You know,
you're lucky to get out of Tucson.
The school here is weird, let me tell you.
Mr. Emmet, the science teacher,
wears a hairnet.
Scary. Really scary.
Can I have some more wine?
Tommy, are you in there?
What did I do?
Come on, honey, let's do something.
I don't feel so wonderful.
Put another quarter in and try again.
Hello? Yes?
Is he okay?
Thank God.
Sure.
Thank you.
The market's not going to
press any charges, Mrs. Hyatt.
-Thank God.
-They had a nice long talk with Tommy.
He's right over there.
-What's he wearing?
-He's got a sweatshirt on.
He got a little sick. Here are his things.
-He was sick?
-Too much wine.
I see.
You're the singing waitress?
-I'm Tommy's mother.
-I'm Audrey. It's nice to meet you.
It's nice to meet you, Audrey.
Tell me, how did all this happen?
It was just a big mistake.
-Big mistake.
-Whose?
The store's.
Doris, come on, let's go.
I got to go.
Ramada Rose is upset,
so you tell Tommy I said goodbye.
Yes, I will.
Would you come on?
So long, suckers!
He's all yours.
-Thank you.
-You're welcome.
You look like you've been embalmed.
-What happened?
-It's all right. Go back to sleep.
What?
-Yeah?
-You're late for work.
I know. I'm sorry, I overslept.
I'll be right