The Motel Guest

Moira:A lobotomy would be a more creative solution.

Johnny:David, can you turn down the music?

David:I'm not listening to Melissa Manchester.

Johnny:Could you please turn that down? Some of us are trying to have a conversation!

Alexis:Yeah, like, we can literally not even hear ourselves think right now.

David:This is incredibly inconsiderate. There are noise ordinances for a reason.

Moira:I'm trying to practice my vocal exercises and it's completely throwing off my resonance!

Johnny:We're your neighbors and we deserve some basic courtesy!

Alexis:Seriously, turn it down!

David:This is unacceptable!

Moira:My diaphragm cannot work under these conditions!

Moira:*sighs dramatically multiple times*

Moira:Do my eyes look puffy?

Johnny:No, not at all.

Moira:Really?

Johnny:Well, a little bit. But it's not noticeable unless you're looking directly at your face.

Moira:These bags under my eyes have become like gypsy caravans. They're dark, they're heavy, and I'm fairly certain they're planning to relocate to someone else's face by morning.

Johnny:Roland, what are you doing here?

Roland:Well, I'm staying next door now.

Johnny:I've been banging away on the walls all morning.

Roland:Well, good for you, Johnny. That's the spirit!

Johnny:No, I'm trying to find the studs so I can hang some shelves.

Roland:Oh, I see. Well, keep it up then. Nothing wrong with that either.

Johnny:Roland, your story doesn't add up. You said you were at the hardware store, but then you said you were fishing.

Roland:Well, I was at the hardware store fishing for deals!

Moira:I'm not saying Roland is the problem. I'm saying the problem is everything around Roland that makes him unbearable.

Moira:I suppose my only flaw is that I drink too much tea.

Johnny:That's your only flaw?

Moira:You have a condescending father tone.

Johnny:I do not have a condescending father tone. That's a ridiculous thing to say, and I think if you really listened to yourself sometimes, you'd realize how often you say things that don't make any sense.

Moira:You're being childish, Johnny.

Moira:You throw tantrums like a toddler!

Moira:This constant whining and complaining — it's pathetic!

Moira:You're absolutely insufferable with your dramatic outbursts!

Moira:You never finish a fight!

Johnny:That's not true!

Johnny:*storms out*

Alexis:Stevie, I need your help. I'm looking for a cheap apartment.

Stevie:Why are you asking me?

Alexis:Well, you live in one.

Stevie:Cute? Alexis, it's a converted grain silo with a porthole window. The 'cute' ship sailed about forty years ago when it was actually a grain silo.

David:I walked into the laundry room this morning, and I was confronted with what appeared to be a crime scene. Roland had hung his undershirts on the rack, and they were just... dangling there like bodies at some sort of twisted, cotton-based horror movie set.

Alexis:I just think it's time for me to get my own place. I mean, I love living here, but I need my own space, you know? Plus, David, no offense, but you're kind of a lot to live with. You're always reorganizing things and being weird about how I do things.

David:I'm not weird about things.

Alexis:You alphabetize your spice rack.

David:It's called organization.

Alexis:You're like if a Pottery Barn threw up.

David:I'm sorry, what?

Alexis:You dress like an old lesbian and you're not even a lesbian.

David:Why do I need to help you apartment hunt?

Alexis:Because I'm very beautiful and people take advantage of beautiful people. I need someone there to protect me from predatory landlords who will try to seduce me into a lower rent.

David:Alexis, the only attractive man in this town is the one I'm currently looking at in the mirror, and that's just because the lighting is forgiving.

Jocelyn:You seem a little... beresk today.

Johnny:Beresk? That's not a word.

Jocelyn:Well, it should be.

Jocelyn:He might end up at the motel.

Jocelyn:We had our honeymoon there. In that exact room, actually. Roland really knows how to make love.

Jocelyn:Well, actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about something rather intimate...

Johnny:No, no, no — Jocelyn, I don't need to hear this.

Johnny:There are no problems in my marriage.

Jocelyn:Well, your wife left you.

Alexis:Is it cute? It's cute, right? Tell me it's cute.

David:It's... fine.

Alexis:Fine? David, I need you to tell me it's cute. Is it cute?

David:Yes, Alexis, it's cute.

Alexis:You don't sound convinced. It IS cute, isn't it?

David:Ray, these original moldings are a real selling point, aren't they?

Ray:Oh, absolutely. They really add to the character of the home.

David:So we should definitely preserve them.

Ray:Well, I mean, we could. Or we could rip them all out and put in some nice, modern baseboards. Whatever you want.

Alexis:Is the fireplace functioning?

Ray:Well, it was, until the squirrel got in there. He's dead now.

David:I just found out the rent in New York City is $5,000 a month for a one-bedroom apartment.

David:That's more than the entire net worth of this town.

Alexis:So this is like... your office?

David:It's an apartment.

Alexis:Right, but I mean, it's so small. Your office in New York was huge.

David:Yes, well, that was before we lost everything.

Alexis:I know, but like, didn't you have those floor-to-ceiling windows? And that amazing view?

David:Yes.

Alexis:And now you have a window that faces an alley.

Johnny:Well, I assume you're going to say something irritating about Roland.

Jocelyn:I was actually going to say 'sensitive'...

Jocelyn:But now that you mention it, yes, very irritating!

Jocelyn:You know what? I'm going to make him sleep in the garage for another week.

Johnny:Well, I think that's fair.

Jocelyn:Actually, make it two weeks.

Johnny:Roland, I may have made a terrible mistake. I may have encouraged Jocelyn's anger, and now she's very upset with you.

Johnny:But I want you to know that I think you're a wonderful man, and your wife is lucky to have you.

Roland:Well, thank you, Johnny.

Johnny:So why don't you head on home and work things out with her?

Roland:Moira! What are you doing here?

Moira:Roland, I need to talk to you about something important.

Roland:Well, make it quick. I've got a real problem with flies in here. They keep getting in, and I can't figure out how to get them out.

Moira:Have you tried opening a window?

Roland:A window? Moira, if I open a window, more flies will get in! That's basic science.

Moira:Roland, your music is far too loud.

Roland:Free lodging! I provide free lodging and this is the thanks I get?

Roland:You know what? I'm done. I'm out. You think you're so much better than everyone else with your fancy words and your ridiculous outfits.

Moira:Excuse me? My outfits are couture, Roland. Perhaps if you spent less time at that dingy real estate office and more time cultivating an aesthetic—

Roland:*mimicking Moira's affected accent* 'Oh, one simply cannot abide the bourgeois sensibilities of this provincial backwater.' Meanwhile, you're wearing a dress made of what looks like a shower curtain and a dead animal.

Ray:The walls are soundproof. You won't hear a peep from the neighbors, and they won't hear a peep from you.

David:That's... actually great.

Ray:Yeah, the previous tenant really needed that. He was very loud at night. For hours. We never knew what he was doing in there.

Ray:The previous tenant did take his own life, but on the bright side, he did it in the bedroom, so the living room is perfectly fine.

Moira:You are a Philistine wrapped in a tracksuit, a man whose idea of culture is whatever plays at the drive-in theatre that still has functioning speakers. Your palate is about as refined as a gas station hot dog roller, and your sense of style is what happens when someone dresses in the dark during a power outage at a Canadian Tire.

Roland:You look like a before picture.

Moira:Your fashion sense is so abysmal, you make a scarecrow look like a runway model!

Roland:Oh, that's rich coming from someone who looks like a drag queen had a fight with a craft store!

Moira:At least I don't smell like a combination of fishing bait and regret!

Roland:Well, your personality is so toxic, it should come with a hazmat warning!

Moira:Your intelligence is so low, single-celled organisms have more ambition than you do!

Roland:...

Moira:...

Both:I... that was too far.

David:There's a ghost in the walls of this house. And it's very angry.

Alexis:Oh my god, stop.

David:It died here. Violently. It's been here for decades, just... waiting.

Alexis:David, this is not funny.

David:It wears the same outfit it died in. A burgundy cardigan. Very dated. And it only appears on Tuesdays at 3:47 AM.

Alexis:Why would you—

David:That's when it was murdered. By someone it trusted. Someone close. Someone with access to the pantry.

Alexis:Oh my god, I'm leaving.

David:And then I realized... he wasn't actually dead. He was just being dramatic about his chapped lips.

Alexis:Oh my God, David.