Blood Buffet

American Horror Story. Double Feature: Red Tide

10×4

Holden Vaughn: You know, back in the day, you'd walk downtown, and you'd see boys getting butt-fucked on front porches like some kind of perverted Norman Rockwell painting. It was true homosexual Americana. Now it's Mom and Dad or Dad and Dad or Mom and Mom and baby stroller gridlock all fucking summer long.

Holden Vaughn: Let's cut the bullshit. A big-city chemist looking for a quiet place with great ventilation in a town where the things that are most plentiful for eight months a year are methheads, choppy seas, and depression? That sounds like a woman looking to set up her own little meth lab.
The Chemist: I have a PhD from Harvard. Meth is well below my pay grade.
Holden Vaughn: Good. 'Cause the sheriff has a nose like a truffle pig for that junk.

The Chemist: I think the medicine has different effects on creative and noncreative people. It's almost like the noncreative ones can tolerate their lack of talent until they're confronted with it. Then their mediocrity drives 'em mad. So... Wanna try one?
Mickey: Fuck no!
The Chemist: Maybe you're one of the talented ones...
Mickey: Um... Thanks but no, thanks.

Belle Noir: I'm so happy.
Mickey: Uh, yeah, that's the drugs.
Belle Noir: Then I want more.
Mickey: Yeah, you see, it doesn't really work that way. First time's the best, and then, uh, you end up chasing that high forever, and you never catch it.

Mickey: Uh, you know, I, uh... I know someone that can give you something else. Something that can make you happy forever.
Belle Noir: How come you're not taking it?
Mickey: 'Cause it's, uh... it's not for me. It only works for people like you. Artists.

The Chemist: Mickey tell you what I'm offering?
Belle Noir: Making all my dreams come true. I'm in.
The Chemist: You wanna know about the side effects?
Belle Noir: I know I'm talented.

Belle Noir: Whatever it takes... To finding my destiny.

Pale Person #1: I need a coat. And I don't have a lot of money.
Lark: I got just the thing.
Pale Person #1: These look expensive.
Lark: They were, in the '80s. All the fashion gays from New York and Boston came out here to let their dicks and rainbow flags fly. Then they all died and left behind closets full of this high-fashion stuff. When the straight yuppies moved into town, they cleaned out the closets and donated all of it to us.

Pale Person #1: I don't know what happened. I'm a vegan. I don't even eat those Impossible Burgers, but the thirst for her was too much.

Pale Person #1: Why? I told you, I'm a pacifist.
The Chemist: You hate everyone because you now know the truth about yourself. You're not talented. You don't have what it takes. The talented ones need the blood, but their rage comes from their arrogance and certainty that they're better than everyone. The rage of the untalented is much darker, more intense. You hate the world for giving you dreams that were too big.

The Chemist: Don't worry, I'm sure you'll have plenty of company soon. Soon as word gets out about what I'm sellin' here, every asshole whose mother told him he could be the next Elvis or Tyler Perry gonna take a chance on that little black pill. Nine out of ten of 'em are gonna end up just like you.

Austin Summers: You know, men have been performing in women's clothing since the time of the Greeks. You all just appropriated it for gay culture.

Austin Summers: What's that?
Belle Noir: It's your new starter switch. It's the highway to your true self.
Austin Summers: Fuck it.

Belle Noir: You can't win 'em all. I'm full anyway.
Austin Summers: What do we do now?
Belle Noir: Now... we go write.

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