Previously on "Rescue Me."
I want you to be the godfather to my new kid.
I don't know what to say.
Just say you'll go on a diet.
It's the Celery Bible.
Yogurt and appreciation.
I am trying to uphold my half of the godfather... bargain.
It's just this thing that happens to me when I have sex.
The penetration hits a muscle back there and, afterwards, it gives me gas.
- Yeah, it's gross, I know. - Hey, hey, don't say that.
You guys want to hit your careers and your reputations
for Tommy's rebel asshole parade, by all means, be my guest.
And I'll tell you what, Lou, I had a white or a blue shirt
on with stripes on my arm, I bet ya I can do a better job at
keeping something like this under the carpet.
The new place that Sean and Colleen were looking at for
their wedding, they saw that the last name was Gavin, that
you were the firefighter who's been in all the papers and...
And they told them both to take a hike.
There's a place in Jersey near where I take Damien
in for his German aqua therapy.
And then there's a place in Connecticut near where I take
him for his movement therapy.
And they're both expensive.
I want to pay.
I want to pay for the whole thing, ok?
Nobody's had the balls to say this to you, but I just got
my balls back so I'm going to say it, he ain't ever getting
out of that wheelchair again.
I got some news for you, too.
Sheila is paying for that wedding.
Thank you.
There you go. I'll be right back to take your order.
You know, I find it amazing that 10 years after the worst
attack ever perpetrated on American soil, a decade later
there's still not a standing monument to everyone that died that day.
Yeah. Do you want to know what the only memorial down here is?
On the side of ladder 10, all right? Which was paid for
privately and it only mentions our guys.
It's a travesty.
It's politicians.
Bullshit.
It's typical.
I went down to that Vietnam wall once.
You know, the one in Washington.
It took me a long time to go there.
Years and years after it was erected.
I was afraid of it.
I served with 10 guys who came home in body bags, 3 guys who
served under me, who I was responsible for and their names are up on that wall.
So, I didn't know how I was going to react.
People were crying and they had their hands up on the wall, sobbing.
Kids, parents, people my own age collapsing.
Shh. And me?
Puh. Nothing.
Stood there for a long time.
It was nice.
It was a nice big, impressive...wall.
Walls, buildings, bridges, they don't mean shit.
Marty Sheehan, tough kid from Boston. Loved hockey.
Bobby, uh, Bobby Orr, was God in his book. Heh!
Joey Gianfredo, nice simple kid from upstate New York.
Kid cried himself to sleep some times, but, boy, he was one crack shot. Heh!
This--thank you.
This is a letter from Buck Chifford.
He sent it to his wife and told her to give it to me
in case he didn't come home alive, which he didn't.
And in this letter he tells how proud he was that I was his
leader and that I shouldn't blame myself for what happened to him...
That he probably would have come home dead a lot earlier if
it hadn't been for me.
So, the point is, walls are shit.
You wanna memorialize somebody?
You do it here and here.
You talk about them.
You tell all the young firefighters what brave guys these guys were.
Guys like my dad.
Guys like your dad.
They were part of the great generation because they saved
this country and the world.
You can't memorialize somebody by plastering their name up on
a wall of concrete and steel.
You do it by talking about their deeds.
You have to remember their faces, their spirit.
You have to remember the firefighters on the morning of
9/11 and what they did before they went downtown.
They memorialized themselves by writing notes
to their loved ones and leaving it in their lockers, so that their wives
and kids could read one last time what these guys thought
about them and cared about them.
A lot of 'em didn't think they were going to be coming back, you know.
It takes a lot of balls to do something like that.
And this letter from Buck?
Man, I'll tell ya, there's not a day goes, not a single day goes by when I
don't think about this guy and what a brave, brave man he was.
He was a real American hero.
Hey, would you order me a tuna melt with extra fries?
♪ On another day, c'mon, c'mon, with these ropes tied
tight, can we do no wrong?
Now we grieve 'cause now it's gone, things were good when we were young
with my teeth bite down, I can see the blood of a thousand men who have come
and gone now we grieve 'cause now it's gone things were good when we were
young, is it safe to say?
C'mon, c'mon was it right to leave?
C'mon, c'mon will I ever learn?
C'mon, c'mon c'mon, c'mon c'mon, c'mon ♪
Sync & corrected by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com
Ahh.
Damian?
[Clanging]
Hello?
[Door creaking]
This is what you're looking for. Look at it.
Here.
It's a letter my dad wrote to my mom.
He stuck it in a book in our old house on a shelf in the living room.
Figured one day she'd come across it in case he died.
And she did.
2 months after, uh, well, you know, after they found his finger.
"My love, if you should find this after I've passed away,
let it find you knowing how truly, madly and deeply I love you.
How each one of my days began with me looking at you and dreaming of more.
And if I were not by your side upon waking, I pictured your
face, your eyes, your sweet..."
What the hell are you doing?
That's mine!
I was... That's private!
What is wrong with you?
Oh, my God.
Get out!
Get out of my bedroom!
Ok. Ok, relax.
What are you doing here?
Get out!
Ok.
I...
Uh!
What the hell is going on around here?
Please tell me that you haven't been drinking.
What is this? While you were watching my kid?
I dunno, that's not mine.
I don't know what that is.
Ugh.
I swear to God.
I, uh, I haven't been drinking.
Ok, ok.
It's ok, it's ok.
I--I... No, no, no, no, I know.
No, we're going to figure this out. It's ok, we're going to
figure this out together, ok?
Ow, ow. Ow.
I don't smell anything.
So, what? You were just going to start now?
No, I don't... I mean--my personal--what were you thinking?
I don't know.
Here, here you go.
Go on, take it. Take it with you.
- Ok, wait. - Go on. Get out.
I do not trust you to watch him anymore.
- Just wait. - Get out!!
Listen to me.
I don't--I--I went down to ground zero. I--I didn't think it was going to
trigger anything.
I mean, maybe it did. Maybe it triggered something.
I'm sorry.
Oh, my God. Please go be sorry somewhere else, huh?
[Groaning]
Oh, God.
Honey, it's ok.
It's ok, Damian.
Ahh.
[Sighing]
I don't--I--I--ahh.
Maybe this is one of those, like those dry drunk things or
something. I don't know.
I mean, did you ever even mention that letter to me or
where you hid it or anything?
Yes, I--yes, I mentioned the letter to you.
When?
Like 5 years ago when you had 7 whiskies in you and we
had that insane night of sex on the beach.
Remember? I had the lavender miniskirt and the almost see- through top on?
Anything? Hello?
[Laughing]
Of course not.
Ha ha.
The sex you don't remember, the see-through shirt and the
moonlight, but somewhere in that dark, dense, tangled mangle
of a shit storm you dare to call a brain, you remember the letter.
Right? Because it pertains to you and what you need right now.
I never let you read that letter because it is the truly
only secret thing that Jimmy and I will ever have ever again after he died.
It's the only piece of him that I get to keep for myself.
It doesn't matter that maybe he cheated.
It doesn't matter how deep things got between you and me.
That letter is evidence of the deepest connection that I will
ever have with another human being, ever.
And you have crossed a very dangerous line.
Get out.
Sheila. I...
Got it.
It's ok.
[Door shuts]
It's ok, it's ok.
So, your girlfriend is a farter?
No. She's not a--what you said.
A farter.
- Could we not use that term? - Oh, you mean the term farter?
- Yes. - How about the term farte?
- No. - Farte, that's not bad.
I mean, it has a nice little French ring happening.
Yeah, it kind of classes it up a little.
No. Nothing with the "f" word in it, please. Jesus.
What's going on?
Garrity's girlfriend is a farter.
Stop saying that.
What do expect, kiddo, huh?
You're supposed to keep this thing to yourself, not blab
it to all your friends.
Where the hell is your sense of shame?
Here's the thing.
I want to keep seeing this chick, ok?
She's really cool and funny and, you know, she's like the most
beautiful woman I've ever seen.
Oh, yeah, well, she better be on par with Gisele if you're
gonna make yourself suffer through that funky ass.
- Mike? - What?
Will you please tell these ass holes how hot she is?
Yeah, guys, I mean, she's pretty smokin'.
Thank you.
Yeah, and apparently she's also a, uh... fartress.
[Laughter]
Hey, fartress.
I saw that movie.
Christopher Lambert was in it.
[Laughter]
So, let me get this straight, if you guys break up,
she would be the fartress of solitude.
Nice.
Would you knock it off, please? I'm being serious here.
What do you want, advice from us?
Yes. Jesus, I don't know why I talk you guys about anything.
Mikey!
I mean, this is a serious problem for me. I come to my closest friends and--
[all shouting]
That's great. That's amazing.
All right.
[Alarm sounds]
Engine.
[Sirens blasting]
Yo, Lou, what's the good word?
Someone reported a gas leak.
Oh, shit, we going over to Garrity's girlfriend's place?
Very funny, black Shawn.
Hey, you know, we're only a few blocks away, you picking up her scent yet?
Ok, hilarious, dick bags.
You know what, odds are it's probably just a bunch of paranoid yuppie assholes
smelling the gas from their pilot light again.
Yep, goddamn yuppies. You gotta love 'em.
Hey, maybe we should bring Garrity's girlfriend by,
let them know what a real gas leak smells like.
You know, I don't know why I tell you guys anything.
[Laughter]
[Television playing in background]
Hello?
[Sirens in background]
It doesn't smell much like gas in here.
And he's the authority.
Ok.
Hello?
F.D.N.Y.
Anybody home?
Hey, hey, buddy, didn't you hear us knock?
[Television playing throughout]
Hey.
Hello?
Hello.
Oh, shit.
How long do you think they've been here?
Long enough.
Check their pulses, will you, Mike?
They're dead, Lou.
I got it.
Go down and check the boiler then, will ya?
Guys, let's open some windows in here.
Nothing.
[Baby cooing]
[Gasps]
Ah, what are you doing?
Oh, God. What time is it?
- Shh, shh, shh. - What are you doing?
- Shh. Shh. Shh. - Get out of my room.
[Muttering]
Ok, jeez.
[Sighs]
[Moaning]
Oh, God.
Ohh. Jesus.
I didn't think it could get any better.
And yet it did.
Ha ha ha.
[Sniffs]
Ahh.
[Exhales]
You wanna hit?
No, thanks, I'm good.
[Hissing]
You see all that grass out front?
Just like Central Park without the taxis, horse shit, and homeless people.
Wow. [Whistles] Look at this view.
Holy shit stink.
Ha ha.
Sheila.
[Laughing]
So, I was thinking maybe like the altar over here.
Right, right, right.
[Crying]
Col?
Honey, what's the matter?
Um, it's just this is so beautiful and so expensive.
Ok, I can't have you pay for this.
Oh, honey, money is not a problem.
How can you say that?
I mean, with all you have on your plate with Damian.
Listen, I may not be a financial... Oh.
I may not be a financial wizard, but my business manager is.
And I'm not going to be throwing away any more cabbage
on miracle cures for Damian.
I've had to accept that and him as he is.
And, you know, it breaks my heart that I'm never going to
be able to give him a wedding.
But that is why you have got to accept this gift on his behalf.
But I mean, it's just so hard, aunt Sheila, because it just--
I mean, this does not feel like us.
It's so peaceful, so polished, and so classy.
So, un-Gavin.
Hmm.
Put an open bar and a dance floor over there, it's going to
get plenty Gavin, plenty quick.
Now, sit down with me for a sec.
Oh, yeah.
Give me your hand.
I want this for you.
And your Uncle Jimmy would want this for you. You want to know why?
Because marriage is really hard.
And you are going to want this one day to look back on and
remember how happy you were and hoped you always would be.
And then you try to be that happy all over again.
And that works?
What the hell do I know? I had my reception at the VFW,
but it sounds like it works.
[Laughter]
You're the best, aunt Sheila.
I know I am.
We cool?
Oh, we cool.
[Laughter]
[Grunting]
Hey.
Do me a favor, would ya?
I got this thing in the middle of my back.
I'm not sure if it's a boil or one of those really huge like
volcano-sized zits.
I mean, I think this thing should be listed on some kind
of geological survey somewhere, but I can't quite see it.
Do me a favor, just look and tell me what it is.
- No. - Come on, you're my best friend.
All right, lift your shirt up real quick.
Ow.
- Oh, holy shit. - What? Boil?
- Tumor. - Serious?
It's going to involve puss at some point and probably some lancing.
Oh, thank you.
Phew.
Hey, uh, listen, on the best friend front?
Yeah, I'm not blowing you.
Ok.
That's why we're never going to get our own reality show.
I, uh...I wrote some letters.
Uh-oh.
- Uh-oh? - Yeah.
Did you, um, write them in crayon?
No, I carved them in stone.
Ha, that's really funny, but the last time that you wrote
letters, Tom, they were to the mayor's office when they were
shutting down all those firehouses.
And because of your drunken pigeon scrawl, you caused a lot
of confusion because every time you wrote the word truck, they thought it was...
I know what they thought it was, ok? This is different.
I--I--I took my time, make sure they were legible.
Uh-huh.
Listen, I kind of took what Feinberg was saying the other day
to heart about, you know, what some of the guys did
on 9/11, writing notes to their families before they jumped in
their rigs to go down--go down there.
So, I just thought maybe I'd, you know, let Janet and the kids know,
you know, my... how I felt about them, you know, so
that if I don't come home from work one night, they have
something that tells them forever how I, you know...
And who better than my best friend, you know, somebody I--
the only person on this planet I trust implicitly...
I want you to be in charge of those.
And there's also one in there for the new kid in case
I get killed in the line of duty before he or she arrives.
Did you, uh, type them?
Yeah, I typed them.
Who do you know that has a typewriter?
A computer is a typewriter, Tom.
I know, I know, you're still trying to deal with the concept
of a disposable lighter.
Um, let me ask you a question.
You want me to give these like a proof read so that, you know,
Katy doesn't spend 2 days trying to figure out why her dad told her to go truck herself?
No, ok.
I just said they're private.
- They're, you know...Do not read them. - I won't. I will not read them.
Or these.
Jesus Christ, how many are there?
I wrote one to Sheila 'cause she's kind of pissed at me right now.
- Ok. - And Damian.
- Ok. - And Mickey and Teddy.
Ok.
And Maggie and my cousin Eddie and my brother Timo and
my sister Rosemary and Needles and, uh, you know, each one of the guys.
But nobody reads anything.
How am I going to read them?
What do I have a week at the beach free? Jesus.
- All right, well, just--nobody reads these. - Nobody reads them.
- You got it. - Ok.
All right, so we're clear.
Yes.
Safe and sound.
Appreciate it.
No problem.
"Dear Lou, I'm not around anymore, so knowing that might be the case,
I wanted to take the time to tell you
how I really feel about you, not only as a lifelong friend, but as
the guardian of my beloved children.
You fat, undisciplined piece of shit. Couldn't wait to get your hands on this, could ya?
I'm still alive and kicking and you're already reading this?
I wouldn't trust you to pick up my dry cleaning, never mind watch my kids.
Do not even try to act like you never read this.
And stay away from the stash of red velvet cupcakes
I have hidden under my bed in the bunk room.
I got them for Janet.
She's been talking about them for days now.
Can't keep them in the house because the kids will--what am I talking about?
You're not even reading this anymore, are you?
Ahh.
Asshole."
[Grunting]
Hi.
I didn't eat any.
No, you didn't have time to eat any, did ya?
Unbelievable.
You were parked under my bunk like a motor head stuck under a '67 Ford Mustang.
You know what?
You can't be trusted.
I knew you wouldn't keep a promise.
You're not on any goddamn diet.
Bullshit, Tom.
Yeah, let me show you something.
You know those cooking classes that I'm taking up at cooking school, which is
actually a culinary institute?
- Oh, really? It's an institute? - Yeah.
They happen to give out report cards. And you know what?
Look at that, straight goddamn "A's."
And, meanwhile, you run to my bed digging out cupcakes?
You know, I should have known this whole goddamn thing was a trap.
A creepy ass Tommy Gavin, Stephen King, 9/11 nightmare.
Yeah.
Why don't you just shut up, Tom? For the love of God, will you just shut
your goddamn mouth?
I am so sick and tired of you and this 9/11 bullshit.
We lost 343 guys that day, Tom, officially.
Officially.
But let's be honest.
Look at the two of us.
I got a hole inside of me the size of that crater downtown
that I've been filling up with food.
And you got a hole inside of you, too, that you've been filling up with booze.
I haven't had a drink-- No, shh, shh.
I have not had a drink-- Tom. Shh. What are you going to tell me, Tom?
That that bottle of vodka I saw in the back seat of your truck
coming here today is cologne?
You've been walking around like a dry drunk for days on end around the joint.
Writing letters and preparing yourself to die.
I got news for you, pal, you're already dead and I am, too.
We're both walking dead men.
We're zombies, Tom.
Forget about 343.
You add in all the other guys in all the other houses and
all of the brain cells that we've killed and all the
marriages that we've destroyed.
All the kids whose dads have that blank stare on their face
for the past decade.
And all those zombies still riding around on their rigs
for 10 years, Tom, 10 years, trying to fill in the holes inside of them. 343.
That number ain't even close.
So, do what you got to do, Tom.
Go downtown.
Bury yourself in that hole and make it official.
Make it 344.
Just for God sakes, just get it over with, Tom, so
the rest of us can go back to leading our quiet little zombie lives.
[Sighs]
Tom?
[Sighs]
Tom?
Tommy?
Oh, no.
No, you don't.
Yeah, yeah.
[Door slams]
What the hell are you guys doing?
- What? Just stretching. - Nothing.
Hey, Frankie.
What's his problem?
Beats me.
What?
Hey, you forgot your cupcakes, asshole.
Something to wash down your vodka with.
Scumbag.
Lou?
Are you seriously standing here in broad daylight with a
handful of cupcakes after all the arguments we've had?
What is all the racket about?
Well, uh, apparently, Tommy's fallen off the wagon and Lou is
back on the chuck wagon. That's what it's about.
What?
These are Tommy's.
Well, hello, Tommy's fix is booze, not donuts.
Lou?
Yeah?
Did my vacation time clear yet?
What are you talking about?
My honeymoon.
Remember? I gave you the papers over 2 weeks ago?
Come on, man, please, do not tell me you didn't...
Classic. It's classic.
Hey, shut up, you.
All right? I remember.
What the hell do you want to go to Mexico for anyway?
So he can be the tallest guy in the room for a change.
Listen, Lou, all right, flights are booked.
We leave in one week--one week after the wedding.
- Really simple, man. - I don't know what to tell ya.
Well, why don't you tell me you're going to put down the goddamn cupcakes--
I'll put down the goddamn cupcakes, all right?
You guys have been riding me about that shit for so long and
I went and I took some classes, ok? Learn how to eat healthier, cook healthier.
And you want to know something?
I got my report card today and got straight "A's," all right?
Magna cum laude.
So, suck it.
Ok, skinny Minnie.
How much weight have you lost so far?
It's a process.
Hey, give me that back.
- All right, all right, come on. - Holy shit. Wait.
Advanced cupcake, "A" plus.
Donuts of the world, "A" plus.
Holy cannoli, "A" plus.
Cookies unlimited, "A" plus.
Mastering mousse, "B" minus.
I ate my final project.
You know what, man? We're over you, all right?
- We're over you, all right, Lou, enough. - I know you're upset.
I know you're-- He forgot to file some papers, all right.
This is not the end of the world.
Yeah, chief, but come on, you pile this on top of all the
other crap, it's like looking at a mountain of bullshit, all right? Let's be honest.
This is definitely the straw that broke the Puerto Rican's back.
You think you can do better, huh, hotshot?
You think you can do better running this place than I do?
Wading through all the bureaucratic bullshit
that I have to do all the paperwork, all the legal wrangling?
You think you can do better than me?
If I don't have to bake cupcakes at the same time, yeah, it should be good.
Ha ha ha.
Oh, you know what, I would love to give you the keys to the kingdom
for a couple of days.
Chief, is that all right with you?
5 days.
Oh, jeez.
Now, you're--quiet.
You're acting lieutenant for 5 days. However, all decisions
- must run through me, you understand? - Cool.
This is going to be good for you. You're going to see what it's like.
I agree.
20, 60. I got 60 bucks on my man Franco.
[All talking at once]
I got 20 on Franc. Sorry, man.
I hate to take money from children, I have a "C" note on Lou.
The keys to the kingdom.
May the best man win... Lieutenant.
Thank you, firefighter chef.
Yeah, firefighter chef.
- I got 20 on Franco. - No, no, no, no. No, you don't.
Oh, you gotta be kidding me.
What?
You got a little something on your... You got it.
[Laughter]
[Sighs]
Yeah.
Shit.
[Engine revving]
[Engine stops]
[Shouting and screaming]
[Loud rumbling]
[People screaming]
[Coughing and screaming]
[Loud rumbling]
[People screaming throughout]
[Loud booming]
[Gasps]
[Knocking]
Hey, you got a dollar?
Uh... hey, man, you all right?
Yeah.
Ahem.
Yeah.
There you go.
This shit real?
Oh, yeah, it's real.
[Laughing]
[Tires screeching]
[Construction noise]
Sync & corrected by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com