Sam, we have been friends too long to let it end this way. And I just came back to say that I'm sorry I ran out earlier in a huff. And that I knew you weren't coming on to me. And when you said I wasn't good that it wasn't just some trick to get me back into bed it was because you were being honest because I am a lousy lover.
No, no Sam that doesn't wash. You've been after me for three years and you finally got me. I mean if I was even adequate I know that you would've run out there and told every bozo in the bar.
You don't think I was dying to do that? It was making me crazy. It's just that I thought I would be betraying our friendship. I've never had a friend before.
It doesn't mean I will never see you guys. I can still come in as a customer. Of course with work and all I can't stay for 10 to 12 hours at a stretch like you guys.
I would like to nominate as the stupidest creature on earth: the one who awakens each day to drive through gridlocked traffic, to sit in a window less office breathing recirculated air, then returns home and collapses into a stupor, only to do the same damn thing all over again every day until he dies.
Every time I've conceived a kid it's been during Indian Summer. It's when I'm at my most fertile, Sammy. I cannot let any man touch me, talk to me, or see me or I'll be shooting out kids like a Pez dispenser.
When the mercury hits 95, I can't be responsible for my actions. Oh who is that hunk over there? In the uniform with the cute buns? [Cliff turns around] Oh my God, it's Clavin. This is worse than I thought. Has he always had that mustache?
No, Normie that would set exactly the wrong tone for this visit. I know why she's here. She wants to move back in with me. But she can just forget it. I tell you. She's not going to be running my life like she did when I was in my mid-30s. No siree sir.
I can love you both for different reasons; Woody, I can love you because you're generous, kind, and strong, and Clifford, I can love you because I'm your biological mother and nature dictates there be a bond.
As a rule your psycho killers don't have families. They're loners. They may have jobs. They're good to their mothers. By and large they sit alone at night in a dark room writing their depraved thoughts in a diary.
But so help me God, if a man with a thumb answers...Hold on. It's him. It's the thumb guy and you know what that pervert said? "Allo." What's that in English?