500 Days of Summer

Author:
The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Especially you Jenny Beckman. B*tch.

Narration:
This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Tom Hansen of Margate, New Jersey, grew up believing that he'd never truly be happy until the day he met the one. This belief stemmed from early exposure to sad British pop music and a total mis-reading of the movie The Graduate. The girl, Summer Finn of Shinnecock, Michigan, did not share this belief. Since the disintegration of her parents' marriage she'd only loved two things. The first was her long dark hair. The second was how easily she could cut it off and feel nothing. Tom meets Summer on January 8th. He knows almost immediately she is who he has been searching for. This is a story of boy meets girl, but you should know upfront, this is not a love story.

Narration:
For Tom Hansen, this was the night where everything changed. That wall Summer so often hid behind - the wall of distance, of space, of casual - that wall was slowly coming down. For here was Tom, in her world... a place few had been invited to see with their own eyes. And here was Summer, wanting him there. Him, no one else.

Narration:
Most days of the year are unremarkable. They begin, and they end, with no lasting memories made in between. Most days have no impact on the course of a life. May 23rd was a Wednesday.

Narration:
If Tom had learned anything, it was that you can't ascribe great cosmic significance to a simple Earthly event. Coincidence, that's all anything ever is. Nothing more, than coincidence. Tom had finally learned there are no miracles, there is no such thing as fate, nothing is meant to be. He knew, he was sure of it now. Tom was... he was pretty sure.

Tom:
People don't realize this, but loneliness is underrated.

Tom:
Just because You're beautiful, doesn't mean you can treat people like they don't matter.

Tom:
Darling. I don't know how to tell you this, but there's a Chinese family in our bathroom.

Tom:
Why make something disposable like a building when you can make something that lasts forever, like a greeting card.

Tom:
You never wanted to be anybody's girlfriend, and now you're someone's wife?

Tom:
Either she's an evil, emotionless, miserable human being, or... she's a robot.

Tom:
I need to know that you're not gonna wake up tomorrow morning and feel differently.

Tom:
Well this is, and Rhoda, no disrespect, but um, this is total sh*t. "Go for it?" "You can do it?" That's not inspirational, that's suicidal! If Pickles goes for it right there that's a dead cat. Lies, we're liars think about it, why do people buy these things? It's not because they wanna say how they feel. People buy cards 'cause they can't say how they feel or they're afraid too. We provide the service that lets them off the hook. You know what? I say to hell with it. Let's level with America. At least let them speak for themselves, right? I mean look, look. What is this, what does this say? "Congratulations on your new baby." How 'bout "Congratulations on your new baby, guess that's it for hanging out, nice knowing ya." How 'bout this one? With all the pretty hearts on the front, I think I know where this one's going. Yup. "Happy Valentine's Day sweetheart, I love you." Isn't that sweet? Ain't love grand? This is exactly what I'm talking about. What does that even mean, love? Do you know? Do you? Anybody? If somebody gave me this card Mr. Vance, I'd eat it. It's these cards, and the movies and the pop songs, they're to blame for all the lies and the heartache, everything. We're responsible. I'M responsible. I think we do a bad thing here. People should be able to say how they feel, how they really feel, not ya know, some words that some stranger put in their mouth. Words like love, that don't mean anything. Sorry, I'm sorry, I um, I quit. There's enough bullshit in the world without my help.

Summer:
I just kept thinking..."Tom was right". It just wasn't me you were right about.

Summer:
There's no such thing as love. It's a fantasy.

Summer:
Colour my life with the chaos of trouble. -quoted from Belle & Sebastian in Summer's high school yearbook.

Boy meets girl. Boy falls in love. Girl doesn't.

This is not a love story. This is a story about love.

It was almost like falling in love.

She's got you high and you don' t even know yet.

Tom:
I liked this girl.. man I loved her. What did she do? She took a giant sh*t on my face. Literally.

Alison:
Literally?

Tom:
...not literally. That's disgusting. Jesus, what's the matter with you?

Tom:
Paul, seriously...

Paul:
Did you bang her?

Tom:
No!

Paul:
Hum job?

Tom:
No!

Paul:
Hand job?

Tom:
No, Paul, no jobs. I'm still unemployed. We just kissed.

Paul:
Level with me, man. As your best friend, who put up with you whining about this girl for weeks on end...you were essentially stalking her!

Tom:
Paul!

Summer:
[walks in] Oh, hi.

Paul:
Hi.

Tom:
Summer, Paul. Paul, Summer.

Paul:
Well I gotta go...

Tom:
Yeah, man...

Paul:
Just pretend I was never here... [Paul leaves, then quickly ducks back in] Oh Tom, T-Tom! If any jobs come up...

Tom:
Thanks Paul! See ya! [once Paul's gone] He's...an old friend... if you heard anything...

Summer:
Heard what?

Tom:
Nothing, you wanna go?

Summer:
Yeah, I'm stalking. I mean, I'm starving. [walks away smiling]

Summer:
We've been like Sid and Nancy for months now...

Tom:
Summer, Sid stabbed Nancy... Seven times with a kitchen knife. I mean, we've had some disagreements but I hardly think I'm Sid Vicious.

Summer:
No, I'm Sid!

Tom:
Oh, so I'm Nancy?

Summer:
I named my cat after Springsteen.

Tom:
What's his name?

Summer:
...Bruce.

Tom:
[Montage of Summer] I hate her crooked teeth. I hate her 1960s haircut. I hate her knobby knees. I hate that cockroach-shaped splotch on her neck. I hate the way she smacks her lips before she talks and I hate the way she sounds when she laughs. [Fade to black; Swayze's "She's Like the Wind" plays briefly] I HATE THIS SONG!

[Open to Tom standing while bus comes to a sudden stop]

Bus Driver:
Son, you gonna have to exit the vehicle.

Vance:
I don't mean to pry but... does this have something to do with Summer leaving?

Tom:
Who?

Vance:
My assistant... Tom, everyone knows. Never mind... and the reason I'm asking is because lately, your work performance seems to be... a little bit off.

Tom:
I'm not following.

Vance:
Okay, here's something that you wrote last week... "Roses are red, violets are blue... f*** you whore."

Summer:
I just... I just woke up one day and I knew.

Tom:
Knew what?

Summer:
...What I was never sure of with you.

[Last lines]

Tom:
My name's Tom.

Girl at Interview:
[shaking hands] Nice to meet you. I'm Autumn.

Tom:
Roses are reds Violets are Blue, F*** You Whore!