Disclaimers: Don't own this stuff. Rockstar and MTV do.
Fiction, not fact.
A/N: Three more episodes left after this one...
And now, Episode XXI of Max Payne & Co. present...
The Real World
Max: This is the story...
Lisa: of seven strangers...
Mona: picked to live on a farm...
Kaufman: and have their lives taped.
Vinnie: Find out what happens...
Annie: when people stop being polite...
Mike: and start being real...
Everyone: The Real World: The Boonies!
(Just down the street from the Winterson farm, sundown)
(We see Vinnie, driving at breakneck speed in the "borrowed" pickup truck trying to get back to the farm, still wearing his touristy clothes. He has a look of worry on his face.)
Vinnie: (confessional) If I'm careful, maybe I can sneak in without raising any suspicion. But then... that'll be up when I tell Woden and Vlad about what I saw. Hmmm... might as well slow down – the jig's up anyway.
(Vinnie pulls in to the front gate, checking in with the cleaners first. He then parks the truck back where he found it. He then walks towards the house. Along the way, he sees the truck that Vladimir and Winterson took to shop for the baby furniture.)
Vinnie: (confessional) Well, I guess Vlad and Winterson are back. I guess I gotta face them too. This blows, but how else am I gonna tell everyone about Horne?
(Vinnie enters the front door. Inside we see the gang lounging around: Max, Kaufman, and Mike are playing cards, while Mona, Lisa, and Annie are watching a chick flick (A/N: No offense, ladies!). Vladimir is in another room nearby, putting together a crib for the baby, with Winterson looking over his shoulder and basically giving him a hard time. Woden is in the study, Mildred is cooking dinner, and Cooter is in the dining room, reading a farming magazine. Everyone in the living room notices as soon as Vinnie enters.)
Max: Gee, Vinnie, that sure took a long time. What happened? Did you find that hat, or did you decide to buy a new one, along with some tourist attire?
Vinnie: Yeah, real funny, Payne. All right, I lied. I didn't really go out to find my hat.
Everyone within earshot: (sarcastically) NO!
Vinnie: Yeah, yeah, gig's up. I'm caught. Boo-hoo. I went to the city to see A.J.
Max: Hmm... this seems too easy. Easy always comes with a price. So what are you up to, Vinnie?
Vinnie: I ain't up to anything. But I do have something to say, and you might wanna call the others in here. Or at least, Woden and Vlad.
Annie: I'll get 'em.
(Annie leaves, and returns a few moments later with Woden, Vladimir, and Winterson, who sit down.)
Vladimir: Now, what happened that was so important that you had to leave the farm, go back to the city, and put us all in danger?
Vinnie: First of all, Vlad, I was disguised when I was in the city, and I kept a low profile, so no one saw me. And second of all, I saw it on the way back here.
Winterson: Saw what, Vinnie?
Vinnie: (taking a deep breath) Horne. I saw Horne. She's come back to the city. And it looks like she's got the President with her.
(Everyone is surprised.)
Woden: Where wasss thissss?
Vinnie: It was in Manhattan. I was driving through there on the way back, and I was stopped at a traffic light. I looked to my left, and there was this big corporate plaza. It said "Aesir Incorporated" out front. Then I saw a limo pull up, and Horne get out. Then a few guys in suits got out with somebody wearing a hood over his head in tow. My guess is that was the President.
Vladimir: Good god! You'd better pray that they didn't see you.
Vinnie: I was at least fifty feet away, and I was wearing these clothes, and a cowboy hat. If they saw me and recognized me, then they must be psychic or somethin'.
Woden: I know where the Aesir Plaza isssss. It'sssss at 132 Wall Ssstreet. Hmm... if we can get thissss info out to the police in a timely manner, then maybe we can reduce the rissssk of being disssscovered. I'll give it to my contact at the FBI. He can circulate it while keeping ussss anonymousssss.
Max: Okay. Sounds like a winning thoroughbred pony to me. (to Vinnie) But you have to promise me that you will stay here until this blows over. Please, I'm begging you like a dog wanting treats: DO NOT LEAVE THIS FARM!
Vinnie: (thinks for a second, then sighs) All right, Payne. I'll stay here. I promise.
Max: Thanks, Vinnie. Now if everyone will excuse me, the lunch I ate earlier this afternoon is coming to the end of its long tedious journey through my bowels. And it's anxious to make its exit. I'll be back in about 15 minutes.
(Max leaves, as well as Woden, going to the study to give the info to his FBI contact. Vladimir also leaves, to continue putting together the crib. In the kitchen, Max whispers to Vladimir on his way to the bathroom.)
Max: Tell the cleaners not to let Vinnie leave the premises, no matter what the circumstances.
Vladimir: I'm way ahead of you, Max.
(Meanwhile, back in the living room)
Mona: Okay, not only was that too much info from Max, but he seems to be talking in metaphors even more than usual lately.
Mike: I agree. Why can't he just get to the point?
Annie: It's a wonder anyone even understands what the hell he's sayin'.
Winterson: You have no idea. Those of us on the force that have had to work with him usually have to get a translator to figure out what he's talking about. And of course, in our line of work, we have to be clear on things.
Lisa: Could he have, like, some kind of obsessive-compulsive disorder?
Kaufman: It could be an addiction.
Winterson: Actually, you might be right, Kaufman. Max spoke in metaphors a little bit when I first knew him, but as time went on, he spoke that way more and more.
Vinnie: So what are we gonna do?
Mona: I'll try talking to him about it. I'm sorta his girl, so he's gotta listen to me.
Winterson: Okay. If that doesn't work, then we'll try something else. But let's hope it won't come to that. Just remember one thing: be nice about it. Don't act angry or threatening – it'll just push the guy further into his addiction. Trust me – I've talked to people with one type of addiction or another before, and that's how I know this.
Mona: I know. I have too.
Annie: Good luck, Mona.
Mona: Thanks.
(Mona leaves the room, walks up to the bathroom, where Max is still holed up, with the door closed. She knocks on it.)
Max: (from inside) Stop banging on the door like a Buddy Rich solo, all right? I'll be out in a moment!
Mona: Max? It's me. I need to talk to you when you're done.
Max: All right, I'll be out in a minute. (to himself, thinking Mona is out of earshot) Hmm, it's like I swallowed a corn cob whole, and I didn't even have any corn.
Mona: (confessional) Good god, that has to be the grossest thing I've ever heard out of Max! I hope this doesn't come up again.
(We soon hear the toilet flush, and the running of water as Max washes his hands. Afterwards, he finally opens the door. Mona is waiting a few paces away.)
Max: So what did you wanna talk about, Mona?
Mona: Max, let's go in the bedroom.
Max: The bedroom? I'm flattered that you want to get intimate now, but it's a bit sudden, like walking in your own neighborhood only to hit a brick wall you never knew was there.
(Mona leads Max into one of the bedrooms. She sits him down on the bed, then closes the door and sits in a chair across from him.)
Max: So what is it, Mona?
Mona: (nervously) Max, you know that I'm your friend, right? And so are the others.
Max: Uhh, yeah. Why?
Mona: Well... I don't know how to say this any other way, so I'm just gonna come out and say it, because I care about you. Max... I think you need to quit talking the way you do.
Max: (puzzled) What's wrong with the way I talk? It's as normal as a lesson in English literature.
Mona: There! That's it! "Normal as a lesson in English literature?" First of all, speaking in similes and metaphors is annoying. Second of all, it doesn't help get your point across, and in most cases it hinders it. Third of all, no one can understand what you're saying. And fourth of all, no normal person talks like that. Think about it – have you ever met anyone who talks like you do in everyday conversation?
Max: No. So what? It's a free country. I can talk any way I want to.
Mona: So why don't you talk normally, if you can talk any way you want to? (pause to hear from Max, but he says nothing) I'll tell you, then. It's because you're addicted. You're addicted to similes and metaphors.
Max: No! No way! I am NOT addicted! I can stop anytime, like the brakes on a Mack truck!
Mona: (smiling a bit) So why don't you? Right there. Why couldn't you have just said "I can stop anytime" and be done with it? I really think you might have a problem.
Max: (angry) I'm not the one with the problem! (picks up a vase and throws it against the wall, close to Mona.) YOU'RE THE ONE WITH THE PROBLEM!!!
(Mona is shocked at Max's behavior. Holding back tears, she quickly runs out of the room. Max then realizes what he's done.)
Max: (shouting after her) Mona, wait! Please! I'm sorry!
(Mona doesn't come back. Max buries his head in his hands, ashamed. Meanwhile, out in the hall, everyone else has heard. Vladimir meets Mona in the hallway, while everyone else waits in the kitchen.)
Vladimir: Mona? What happened? I heard yelling and something break.
Winterson: (approaching Mona and Vladimir) I guess it didn't go so well, huh Mona?
Mona: (still holding back tears) No, it didn't.
Winterson: I don't know if you noticed, Vlad, but Max has been using metaphors and similes even more than usual. We talked about it a little while ago, and Mona decided to talk to him about it. But I guess he wouldn't hear of it.
Vladimir: Yes. I've noticed that about Max since day one. I just didn't say anything because I just figured it was a little quirk of his.
Mona: So what do we do now?
Winterson: Well... I guess we're gonna have to have an intervention.
Mona: Really?
Winterson: Yes. We need to get everyone together, and possibly call some others over. It will be harder for him to deny his addiction if he hears about it from a group of people.
Vladimir: Good idea.
Mona: So who's gonna lead it?
Winterson: Vlad, why don't you lead it? You seem to be good at leading things, and to have a presence that commands respect.
Vladimir: Wow, Winterson. Thanks. That's probably the highest praise I've ever received from you.
Winterson: Right. We'll do it tomorrow afternoon.
Vladimir: I'll go talk to Woden. See if I can convince him to let me call a couple of Max's friends to come out here.
Winterson: Okay. Then, it's back to putting that crib together.
Vladimir: (sighing) Yes, dear. (leaves)
Winterson: Don't worry, Mona. I have a feeling that this will work out just fine.
Mona: I'm... okay. Really. (pause) But thanks for helping.
Winterson: No problem.
(The bunk house, early afternoon)
(We see Max, waking up to find that it is raining outside. He looks around – there is no one around!)
Max: Hmmm, that's odd.
(Max gets dressed and goes outside. He looks off in the distance at the house. He sees several cars parked out in front of it, and he sees that the lights are on in the living room, and many people are gathered. He goes up towards the house and enters it. Upon entering the living room, he sees everyone there: the gang, Vladimir, Winterson, Woden, Cooter, and Mildred. In addition he also sees Jim Bravura and Alex Balder.)
Max: Jim? Alex? What are all these people doing here? (noticing everyone's solemn faces) It's as if I'm showing up to my own funeral.
(Everyone except Cooter sits down. Cooter has his shotgun with him, and he closes the door separating the living room from the kitchen. He stands by the door, apparently to keep Max from running.)
Vladimir: Max, can you sit down, please?
Max: (sitting) What's going on here?
Vladimir: Max... I called all of these people here... to talk to you about your simile and metaphor addiction.
Max: (surprised) What? Mona, did you put everyone up to this?
Vladimir: No. Winterson and I put this whole thing together. We've been worried about you, Max, and you need to listen to everyone as they tell you so.
Max: Look, Mona, if this is about last night, I'm sorry about that. I don't know what came over me.
Mona: I do: denial. Denial is what pushed you over the edge.
Vladimir: And that is why we are all here today: to convince you that you have a problem and that you need help.
(Max contemplates leaving the room, but sees Cooter, cocking the hammer on his shotgun.)
Cooter: Don't you go nowhere, boy, or I'll give you two extra belly buttons.
(Max sighs and sits down in a chair set up in the middle of the room.)
Vladimir: Now, we're going to go around the room. Each one of us is going to give a specific example of how you're addiction to metaphors and similes has hurt them. And all that I want you to do is listen to them, and not interrupt. Okay?
Max: Yeah. Sure. I'm a good listener.
Vladimir: Thank you. Mona, why don't you start?
Mona: (takes a deep breath) I remember the night we came home from the Country & Western bar, after Mike returned. It was after we had become intimate. I wanted to talk afterwards, but you kept babbling comparing everything to flowers and dogs and other stuff that had nothing to do with the topic at hand. I couldn't understand a word you were saying, and suddenly the sex wasn't that great.
Max: (becoming defensive) You tell me this now? After all this...
Vladimir: (cutting in) Ah-ah-ah. Max. No interrupting.
Max: Sorry.
Mona: What I meant was, the mechanics were good, but you're speaking in a manner that I couldn't understand left me feeling distant from you, and there was no intimacy as a result.
(Mona finishes and sits down. Bravura goes next.)
Bravura: I remember reading a report that you had written once regarding a case I had assigned to you. Your sentences were almost completely indiscernible. At first I thought that you had been drinking. In fact that's the real reason I called you into my office afterward.
Max: You mean it wasn't to show off your new hat.
Bravura: No. It was to smell you, and to watch your coordination. When I saw that you weren't drunk, I sent you on your way, but not until after I asked you to clarify what you had written.
(Bravura finishes and sits down. Kaufman goes next.)
Kaufman: One night we were playing dominoes in the bedroom when we were still in Manhattan, and almost all of your sentences contained metaphors. They made those sentences incredibly long, and held up the game. Real dominoes is a fast-paced game, and your long-winded conversation ruined it. And I can't stand that, since I take the game very seriously.
Max: (again defensive) Well maybe if you didn't take the game so seriously, you wouldn't have been so irritable about it.
Kaufman: (equally defensive) And who are you to talk? You just had to beat me at that game, and wouldn't...
Vladimir: All right, that's enough out of both of you! Max, stop interrupting. And Kaufman, we need to be nice, and caring in the way we present ourselves. No yelling, no name-calling, and no arguments. Okay?
Max: Sorry.
Kaufman: Sorry. I guess I'm finished.
(Kaufman sits down. Alex stands up.)
Alex: I remember when you called me up inviting me to the party, and were giving me directions. I had no idea what you were saying. You spent more time talking about dark forests, roadrunners, and race cars than you did telling me which way to turn and what street to get on. I ended up all the way up in the Bronx, and nearly got mugged. I had to pull my gun to get the guy to leave, and even then it took some doing. Once I got someplace safe, I called the house again. Luckily someone else answered – I think it was Mona – and she gave me better directions.
Max: (after seeing that Alex is finished) Alex. I had no idea. I'm sorry.
Vladimir: Okay, Max, okay. Let's let everyone have their turn first, then you can talk. All right?
Max: (solemn) Okay.
(Alex sits down. Annie goes next.)
Annie: I remember at the funeral, when we all thought Mike was dead, when we were all giving the speeches. You got up and right away, started spewing metaphors left and right. Any other place, any other time, and I might notta minded so much, but it was a eulogy, and not the place to speak so casually in ways that no one could understand. It really made me uncomfortable, and while I realize that it may not have been your intention, I took it as an insult, seein' as how I was close to Mike.
(Annie sits down. We see Max looking quite ashamed of himself. Mike goes next.)
Mike: I remember the first day we all met, back when Vladimir and Winterson were still part of the group. You compared my cowboy hat to "an oversized balloon in a one-float parade the day after Thanksgiving." I know that you are a nice-guy and did not mean to, but that really hurt my feelings. I take great pride in the way that I dress, so that comparison really hurt.
(Mike finishes. Max feels even worse. Winterson stands up.)
Winterson: I remember one day when you were filling me in on a case you were working on. You were spouting some indiscernible babble, and it resulted in me arresting a Boy Scout who was in the middle of helping an old lady across the street. That poor boy nearly got sent to prison for 30 years, and that poor old lady nearly got run over by a semi... all because you couldn't just get to the point. You are a cop, so you should know the value of clear and concise information, and what happens when information is not clear... That's all I'm going to say.
(Winterson sits down. Max looks even more ashamed. Vinnie goes next.)
Vinnie: Once we were all riding in a limo on our way to a club. You were trying to guide the limo driver, but you kept spouting off some inane babble about wood paths and darkness, instead of just telling the driver when to turn... As a result, we got in a wreck. Bad too. The driver ended up running into a telephone pole, and the limo was nearly cut in half. (sobbing a bit, remembering) I saw the freakin' Grim Reaper waitin' for me, and man, was he ugly. (sighs) Payne, you're a freakin' cop – you're supposed to know the streets well, and be helpful in giving directions to others.
(Vinnie sits down, shaking from the memory of his little scare. Lisa goes next.)
Lisa: By the end of my first day with the group, I thought you were a schizophrenic, the way you kept talking. Every third sentence of yours contained some kind of simile or metaphor. I couldn't understand you, and it really made me nervous. I try to give others the benefit of the doubt, but the way you were acting made me think that you had escaped from a mental hospital. I was worried that you were going to kill everyone around you in a fit of insanity. (sighs) I guess that's all I can say.
(Lisa sits down. Max looks like he just wants to die by now. Woden goes next.)
Woden: Thissss whole ssssituation with Nicole Horne requires ussss to work together very closssely. Which meansss that you will have to be a team player. If you are going to be a team player, then you musssst be willing to give up thissss annoying habit of yourssss – thisss annoying way of talking.
Max: (under his breath) At least my voice doesn't sound like I ran over a nail.
Woden: What!?
Max: Uhhh, nothing. Please continue.
Woden: That'ssss all I have to ssssay.
(Woden sits down. Mildred goes next.)
Mildred: That vase you broke last night was a family heirloom. It's been in my family since the days of my great-great-grandma, and now it's gone.
(Mildred sits down. Max sighs in shame once again.)
Vladimir: Cooter?
Cooter: I ain't got nothin' to say.
Vladimir: Well, then, I guess everyone's said their piece. Max, would you like to say anything now?
Max: (after a long pause) My god. I had no idea... how much my way of talking has hurt you guys. (buries his head in his hands and starts sobbing) I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Vladimir: (putting his hand on Max's shoulder) There there, Max. We all came here for one reason and one reason only: to help you. But first, I need you to answer one question for everyone, and I need you to be totally honest. Are you ready to be rid of your addiction?
(Max thinks for a long moment. He finally breathes out a sigh, then answers.)
Max: Yes.
(The others applaud. Vladimir smiles.)
Vladimir: Good. Very good. You've just taken the first step towards recovery. Now, I am going to give you a card. It has the name, address, and phone number of a local chapter of a group, and I think that you should attend their meetings. They will surely be able to help you overcome your addiction. On the back is the day and time for the meetings.
Max: (taking the card from Vladimir) Thank you.
Vladimir: And remember, we're here for you too.
Everyone: (at random) Yeah... We are... Sure...
Max: Thanks, guys. Thanks for coming over and seeing me. Once again, I'm sorry for how much I've hurt you guys.
(Mona gets up and walks over to Max, smiling. She touches his shoulder.)
Mona: It's okay, Max. You're forgiven.
Winterson: She's right. We're all just glad that you've seen the light, and that you've admitted to your addiction. You're already on the road to recovery.
(Max and the rest get up. They all exchange hugs and handshakes.)
(The local community center, in town, early the next evening)
(We see Max passing through the lobby and entering a small room off to the side. There is a small group of people either seated or finding their seats. In the front of the room, on a low riser, is a podium with a microphone. There is a man nearby, making preparations. We then see a sign at the bottom of the risers. It reads: "Metaphors and Similes Anonymous." Max soon finds his seat, and within minutes, the man who was setting up near the podium goes up to it and begins speaking.)
Man at podium: Okay, if everyone's here, and it looks like they are, we'll go ahead and get started.
(Everyone quiets down as the man speaks.)
Man at podium (Chuck): Hi. My name's Chuck, and this is MSA, or Metaphors and Similes Anonymous. (noticing Max) And I can see that we have a new face here tonight, so if he feels up to it, then how about we let him introduce himself.
(Chuck and the others wait for Max to introduce himself. After a long silence, Max finally works up the courage to speak.)
Max: Hi. My name is Max Payne...
Everyone: Hi Max!
(Max chuckles a bit, because it wasn't what he was expecting. He then continues.)
Max: My name is Max Payne, I'm a New York City cop... and I'm a metaphor addict.
Chuck: Then congratulations, Max. You've taken the first step to recovery: admitting that you have a problem. Would you like to share with the group what exactly brought you here?
Max: Sure, I guess. Yesterday afternoon, a group of my friends had an intervention on my behalf. Through that, I realized how much of a problem I had talking in metaphors, and how much it has affected those that I cared about. My manner of speaking has caused me to be mistaken for drunk, and mistaken for schizophrenic. It has hurt people's feelings, caused physical injury, caused car accidents, and even almost resulted in a Boy Scout being falsely imprisoned. The intervention itself happened because my girlfriend tried to talk to me about my problem... (tears welling up in his eyes) and I threw a vase at her.
(Max is fighting not to cry. A man gets up from his chair and goes over to Max. He is a very hard-nosed gruff man, wearing a brown trench coat and a hat. He looks an awful lot like Sam Spade (from The Maltese Falcon). His nametag even reads: "SAM." The man puts his hand on Max's shoulder.)
Sam: I've been in exactly the same boat you've been in. I've done all those things and worse, my friend.
Chuck: He's right. Sam here's been a member of this group for years. He had gotten to a point where he couldn't finish a sentence without resorting to some bit of indiscernible poetry. But someone cared enough to bring him to this group, and with its help, he overcame his problem, and now he's been simile and metaphor free for almost ten years.
Sam: Right. Not to mention that great feeling of satisfaction I get from helping others overcome it in the same way that these guys have helped me.
Max: Wow! Thanks, Sam. I feel better, knowing that I'm not alone in this.
Sam: That's right, and don't you ever forget that.
(The Winterson Farm, later that evening)
(The gang, Vladimir, and Winterson are lounging around. Max walks in momentarily.)
Mona: Hey, Max.
Vladimir: Max. So how was the meeting?
Max: It was great. I think I'm gonna be doing a lot better from now on, thanks to my new friends at the group, and to you guys, and to the producer.
Winterson: The producer?
Max: Yeah. I've worked out a deal with the producer that will help me make the transition from Metaphor addicted to metaphor free.
Max: (confessional) I wasn't lying. I really did make a deal with the producer. I'll no longer be using metaphors and similes in my conversations with the others, but I'll be allowed to use them in the confessionals on a limited basis. That way, the void in my psyche that the metaphors leave behind won't be too great for me to fill. Also, I'll gradually use them less and less, and hopefully in about a month, I'll be completely metaphor and simile free.
MTV Announcer: Coming up, on our next episode... What will become of Horne and her crew, now that we know where they are? Will the gang ever get to return to New York City? And will Max succeed in overcoming his metaphor addiction? Find out all this and more, on the next episode of... "The Real World."
Okay, hope this wasn't too long. Of course, please, please, PLEASE R&R :-)