The more I try to make my life better, the worse it gets.

-Ah, you're spiraling, David.

Everything's fine.

-What the fuck?

-All right.

Maybe you need to see my therapist, Dr. Kessler.

You might need some professional help.

-OK.

What's the number.

It's

-212-555-5555.

-Again?

-555-555-5555.

-555-555-5555.

-Yeah.

-OK, and what's the address?

-123 Main Street, Anytown, USA.

-OK.

MALE SPEAKER (OFFSCREEN): All clear on Main Street.

Nothing to report.

[DOORBELL RINGS]

DR. KESSLER (ON INTERCOM): Hello, this is Dr. Kessler.

-Hi, is--

DR. KESSLER (ON INTERCOM): Come in, Mr. Wain.

[INTERCOM BUZZES]

-Hi, David.

I'm Carol Kessler.

Welcome.

-Pleasure.

Oh, you sound different than you did on the intercom.

-Oh, I know.

The intercom makes everyone sound like an old Jewish man.

But who has time to fix it?

I mean, what with the pace of modern times and just voice

mails and fax machines and CB radios.

So why don't you take a seat, and, well, we'll get started.

OK?

Just a second.

Uh, breaker, breaker, this is the Poodle Cruncher, and I

will be radio silent for the next hour or so.

Over and out good buddies.

OK.

So.

David, what brings you to therapy?

-I don't know.

I've just been lonely, kind of depressed.

Can't seem to keep a relationship going.

-No, stop.

You're here, but you're not here.

Start again.

-OK.

Well--

-How much do you masturbate?

-I don't kn--

-David, we're almost out of time, but what I'm hearing

from you is that you would like meet someone new and

maybe curb that compulsive masturbation problem.

I'm assuming that you had a relative that raped you.

Now would that be in the house or was it more like

a city zoo or what?

-It was at the zoo.

-Anyway, I'm going to a banquet tonight for the

National Psychological Society, and my

husband is out of town.

Would you like to accompany me?

-Oh my god.

Dr. Kessler, you look beautiful.

-Oh, thank you, David.

Do me a favor.

Call me Carol.

-Evening, Dr. Kessler.

Where's Marvin?

-Who cares?

This is David.

He's a patient of mine.

-Let me guess.

Obsessive compulsive?

-Try again?

-Bipolar?

-Nope.

-Intermittent explosive disorder?

-Wrong.

-Anorexia nervosa.

-No.

-Munchausen's syndrome.

-No.

-Paraphilias.

-No.

-OK, I give up.

What's wrong with this guy?

-I don't even know.

I've only had about a two-minute session with him so

far.

-Gotcha.

-Nice to meet you.

Come here, you.

I'm gonna do something that I've been wanting to

do for a long time.

-Oh, Carol.

Isn't this just inappropriate on so many levels?

-Come with me.

-This is the ladies' room.

I'll just wait outsi--

-Relax, dog.

Come on.

-What are you doing?

-[HEAVY SIGH]

-Oh my god, are you peeing?

Oh!

[LAUGHS NERVOUSLY]

-It's weird.

It's weird.

It's weird.

-Put your fingers in my panties.

-Oh, that's--

-Do it.

-Now?

Ow!

-Now you.

Hit me.

Oh!

-Are you OK?

-What time is it?

-I don't--

-What are you doing here?

Go!

Give somebody some privacy, you fucking asshole.

-David.

-Carol?

-Dr. Kessler, if you please.

This is my husband, Marvin, and you know Matt.

-How could you, David?

DAVID (OFFSCREEN): But--

-I mean, do you have any idea how this makes me look?

-But--

I--

MARVIN (OFFSCREEN): What did you think I was?

You think I'm some kind of chump or something?

Jesus.

-We have decided not to press charges, David.

-But if you ever step foot in any town again, I will

personally stab you right through the heart with a

sharpened flagpole.

DAVID (OFFSCREEN): I don't understand.

I just came to her for some help, and then suddenly last

night, she takes me to this weird party and--

-There's a disease, a cancer in this room, and its name is

David Wain.

I hope you die soon.

Marvin?

-Absolutely.

DR. KESSLER (ON INTERCOM): Matt?

DAVID (OFFSCREEN): Matt.

Not you, Matt.

You're my friend.

-Not anymore, David.

I hope you die as soon as possible.

After what you did to Dr. Kessler and her husband?

Unforgivable.

-Now I don't want this session to end on a sour note, so I

brought some slow house groove I thought that we

could all dance to.

[SLOW HOUSE GROOVE PLAYS]