Martin Q. Blank:
Do you *really* believe that there's some stored up conflict that exists between us? There *is* no us. *We* don't exist. So who do you wanna hit, man? It's not me. Now whaddya wanna do here, man?
Bob:
[Pulls out a folded up piece of paper]
Martin Q. Blank:
I don't know what that is.
Bob:
These are my words.
Martin Q. Blank:
It's a poem? See, that's the problem... express yourself, Bob! Go for it.
Bob:
"When I feel... quiet... when... I feel... blue..."
Martin Q. Blank:
You know, I think that is *terrific*, what you have right there. Really, I liked it, a lot. I wouldn't sell the dealership or anything but, I'm tellin' ya... it's intense!
Bob:
There's... more.
Martin Q. Blank:
Okay, would ya mind, just skip to the end.
Bob:
To... the very end? "For a while."
Martin Q. Blank:
Whew. That's good man.
Bob:
"For a while."
Martin Q. Blank:
That's excellent!
Bob:
You wanna do some blow?
Martin Q. Blank:
No I don't.
Bob:
[Hugs Martin]
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:16
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