Martha:
[derogatorily, to George]
Hey, swamp! Hey swampy!
George:
Yes, Martha? Can I get you something?
Martha:
Ah, well, sure. You can, um, light my cigarette, if you're of a mind to.
George:
No. There are limits. I mean, a man can put up with only so much without he descends a rung or two on the old evolutionary ladder, which is up your line. Now, I will hold your hand when it's dark and you're afraid of the boogeyman and I will tote your gin bottles out after midnight so no one can see but I will not light your cigarette. And that, as they say, is that.
Martha:
Jesus.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 09:05