KATE: Hey, Pete? PETE: Uhghhgojf. KATE: Do you think that just maybe once, you could NOT look like you are sweaty, faintly green, and moments away from dying? PETE: Need... blood... of virgins... KATE: Oh, shove off, Pete, you were fine in the car. PETE: Why do you always have to kick my good time in the balls, Kate? I'm TRYING to get myself a major motion picture based on my struggles. KATE: What? PETE: You don't think I walk around dressed like this -- a cross between Charlie Chaplin and a dying man who's starring in Guys and Dolls -- because I think it LOOKS good, do you? GOD, Kate. KATE: Well, why are you making me put up with it, then? It's not raining -- there's no reason your hair needs to look like that. PETE: Because if I'm immortalized on film as a tragic hero, I will become a LEGEND. And that Harry Potter kid is in really fine form right now -- he'd be PERFECT. I mean, he's already stripped naked and pet horses on stage. That's half the battle right there. KATE: Ooh! I like this idea. Who gets to play me? PETE: I was thinking Mary-Kate Olsen. KATE: No fair! She looks WAY more stringy than I do. How about Mischa Barton? PETE: Not glassy-eyed enough, I'm afraid, pet. Now, stop bothering me. I need to get back into my tragic character. If people don't believe I'm a step away from trying to cut off their hair and smoke it, they'll lose interest. KATE: Fine, but next time, check with me -- I know some tricks from modeling that can make your eyes look even redder. PETE: That's my girl! Now, where was I? Ah yes: BLOOD... I need
blood...
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