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[Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. A 12-step program is on the wall behind the speaker]
AA Speaker: Hello again everyone, my name is Michael, and, I'm an alcaholic.
Group: [all wave] Hi, Michael.
Michael: As most of you know I once lost my job and my family because of my drinking. But with the help of AA I've been sober for ten years now. [the group claps] Anyone have anything they wanna tell the groups, for starters?
Man 1: [stands up] My name's Bill, and Im an alcoholic.
Group: Hi Bill.
Randy: [subdued] Hi Bill.
Bill: I've been using the 12-step program for about two months now and, and I'm really turning my life around. No more blowing guys on Colfax Avenue for a pint of vodka for THIS cowboy! [the group claps. Bill sits down]
Michael: That's great. And I understand this is somebody's first AA meeting, is that right? [Randy points to himself] Y-yes, you sir. Stand on up and introduce yourself.
Randy: [rises] Um, my name's Randy, and... I just, really like beer.
Man 2: You have to admit you're an alcoholic.
Randy: [slowly] But, I don't knnow if I'm really an alcoholic.
Big Woman: Then why are you here?
Randy: Because I got a DUI and so I'm required to attend AA meetings for two weeks. I was stupid one night and drank too much and then drove a car. That was dumb and I'm not gonna do it again.
Michael: Randy, you are powerless to make that decision. The only thing that works is the 12-step program. [points out the 12 steps] Step 1 is admitting that you are powerless to control your drinking. Only then can you move on to the other 12 steps, like, believing that only a higher power, God, makes you stop drinking. And then, turning your life over to that God and, humbly asking God to remove your weaknesses.
Randy: What wait wait, hold on. I never knew that Alcoholics Anonymous was a religious thing.
Michael: Well it's not religious. You just have to admit that there is some kind of god which has power over you and turn your life over to that god and ask him for forgiveness. That's the 12-step program, not religion.
Randy: Llook, I, I really just need to cut down on my drinking and never drive the car drunk again.
Michael: [approaches Randy] You just can't cut down on your drinking, Randy. You need to know something. You have a disease.
Randy: Uh... a disease?
Michael: That's right. Alcoholism is a disease. You're sick, Randy. You're very very sick. And just like with most diseases, you can't cure it yourself. And it's deadly.
Randy: [appalled by the "diagnosis"] Oh my God...
[Stan's house, later. Stan arrives and enters. As he hears the sofa, he sees his father wrapped in a blanket and bottles of beer on the coffee table before him. Another bottle is next to him on the couch. He's sipping more beer.]
Stan: Dad! What the hell are you doing?!
Randy: [quivering] Hello, Stan.
Stan: Dad, it's the middle of the day! I thought you weren't going to drink as much anymore!
Randy: No, Stan, you don't understand. I have a disease. Daddy's very sick.
Stan: What?? Did you go to your AA meeting?!
Randy: Yes, they're the ones that told me. I thought I could just quite drinking on my own, but... it's an illness, son. I have to admit that I'm powerless to this terrible disease. [coughs, drinks, and burps.]
Stan: Dad, you've had enough! Just stop now!
Randy: I can't! I'm sick! [begins to cry and walks off in his blanket. He goes to the bathroom and closes the door, then goes to the vanity and looks in the mirror] It's not fair! Why did you give me this disease?! [coughs as he cries, then takes some shears to his hair and shaves it off. Stan is about to pour milk into a glass downstairs] Stan! Stan! [Stan stops and sets the carton of milk down, then walks into the living room, where Randy is now seated in a wheelchair.] Stan.
Stan: Aw Goddamnit!
Randy: Stan I... need your help.
Stan: Dad, what are you doing in Grandpa's extra wheelchair?!
Randy: Gotta try to take it easy from now on, son. Get Daddy another beer, will ya?
Stan: No! You don't need another beer!
Randy: [turns away and rolls off] I know that! But this disease is just eating me up! I hate my illness!
Stan: Dad, you just need to not drink so much. It's very simple.
Randy: I wish it was that simple, son. But if I don't give myself up to a higher power, this disease is going to kill me dead. I'm afraid the only thing that will cure me... is a miracle.
AA Speaker: Hello again everyone, my name is Michael, and, I'm an alcaholic.
Group: [all wave] Hi, Michael.
Michael: As most of you know I once lost my job and my family because of my drinking. But with the help of AA I've been sober for ten years now. [the group claps] Anyone have anything they wanna tell the groups, for starters?
Man 1: [stands up] My name's Bill, and Im an alcoholic.
Group: Hi Bill.
Randy: [subdued] Hi Bill.
Bill: I've been using the 12-step program for about two months now and, and I'm really turning my life around. No more blowing guys on Colfax Avenue for a pint of vodka for THIS cowboy! [the group claps. Bill sits down]
Michael: That's great. And I understand this is somebody's first AA meeting, is that right? [Randy points to himself] Y-yes, you sir. Stand on up and introduce yourself.
Randy: [rises] Um, my name's Randy, and... I just, really like beer.
Man 2: You have to admit you're an alcoholic.
Randy: [slowly] But, I don't knnow if I'm really an alcoholic.
Big Woman: Then why are you here?
Randy: Because I got a DUI and so I'm required to attend AA meetings for two weeks. I was stupid one night and drank too much and then drove a car. That was dumb and I'm not gonna do it again.
Michael: Randy, you are powerless to make that decision. The only thing that works is the 12-step program. [points out the 12 steps] Step 1 is admitting that you are powerless to control your drinking. Only then can you move on to the other 12 steps, like, believing that only a higher power, God, makes you stop drinking. And then, turning your life over to that God and, humbly asking God to remove your weaknesses.
Randy: What wait wait, hold on. I never knew that Alcoholics Anonymous was a religious thing.
Michael: Well it's not religious. You just have to admit that there is some kind of god which has power over you and turn your life over to that god and ask him for forgiveness. That's the 12-step program, not religion.
Randy: Llook, I, I really just need to cut down on my drinking and never drive the car drunk again.
Michael: [approaches Randy] You just can't cut down on your drinking, Randy. You need to know something. You have a disease.
Randy: Uh... a disease?
Michael: That's right. Alcoholism is a disease. You're sick, Randy. You're very very sick. And just like with most diseases, you can't cure it yourself. And it's deadly.
Randy: [appalled by the "diagnosis"] Oh my God...
[Stan's house, later. Stan arrives and enters. As he hears the sofa, he sees his father wrapped in a blanket and bottles of beer on the coffee table before him. Another bottle is next to him on the couch. He's sipping more beer.]
Stan: Dad! What the hell are you doing?!
Randy: [quivering] Hello, Stan.
Stan: Dad, it's the middle of the day! I thought you weren't going to drink as much anymore!
Randy: No, Stan, you don't understand. I have a disease. Daddy's very sick.
Stan: What?? Did you go to your AA meeting?!
Randy: Yes, they're the ones that told me. I thought I could just quite drinking on my own, but... it's an illness, son. I have to admit that I'm powerless to this terrible disease. [coughs, drinks, and burps.]
Stan: Dad, you've had enough! Just stop now!
Randy: I can't! I'm sick! [begins to cry and walks off in his blanket. He goes to the bathroom and closes the door, then goes to the vanity and looks in the mirror] It's not fair! Why did you give me this disease?! [coughs as he cries, then takes some shears to his hair and shaves it off. Stan is about to pour milk into a glass downstairs] Stan! Stan! [Stan stops and sets the carton of milk down, then walks into the living room, where Randy is now seated in a wheelchair.] Stan.
Stan: Aw Goddamnit!
Randy: Stan I... need your help.
Stan: Dad, what are you doing in Grandpa's extra wheelchair?!
Randy: Gotta try to take it easy from now on, son. Get Daddy another beer, will ya?
Stan: No! You don't need another beer!
Randy: [turns away and rolls off] I know that! But this disease is just eating me up! I hate my illness!
Stan: Dad, you just need to not drink so much. It's very simple.
Randy: I wish it was that simple, son. But if I don't give myself up to a higher power, this disease is going to kill me dead. I'm afraid the only thing that will cure me... is a miracle.
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