Barefoot in the Park Page #8

Mr. Velasco, can I see you

for a minute?

A little dog.

A little doggie.

I don't need anybody

to protect me, sweetheart,

because I am a man,

independent, mature,

self-sufficient

man... ah-choo!

Oh! God bless me.

I've probably got the flu.

Yeah.

Chills, fever, sweaty.

Probably have

a 24-hour virus.

Better tomorrow

at a quarter to 4:00.

Oh!

Thanks. Thanks a lot, pal.

And thus it was written.

Some shall die

by pestilence,

some by the plague,

and one poor schnook

will get it from a hole

in the ceiling.

Ahh!

That's it. That's it.

Goodbye, leaky closet.

Bye, no bathtub.

Bye, hole.

Goodbye, six flights.

Oh!

Goodbye,

Corie.

Oh, no goodbye?

According to law,

I'm entitled to...

Goodbye!

What?

Is it your mother?

Corie, what is it,

an accident?

For Pete's sake,

what's it about?

It's not the way

it looks at all!

Boo-hoo!

Good God.

Corie, you've

got to believe me.

Somebody believe me.

I warned her.

I warned her,

and I was right.

He warned me,

and he was right.

It must have

been the drinks.

I had a great deal

to drink last night...

Martinis, vodka, coffee,

black bean soup, and ouzos.

That's not

my problem.

I'm well

out of it now.

Ahh!

Then after I fell,

Victor picked me up

and carried me inside.

I couldn't walk because

my shoes fell down the sewer.

You don't have

to explain.

He started

to carry me here,

but his hat

fell over his eyes,

and we fell down the stairs

into apartment 3C.

I fell on his foot.

I thought we'd

have a nice evening.

Mr. Gonzales, Mr. Armandariz,

and Mr. Calhoun

carried us both

up there

and put us down

on the rugs.

When I awoke,

Victor was gone,

and I was there

in his bathrobe.

I swear that's

the truth, Corie!

Got a cold.

I've had one

for 20 years.

Ahh!

Gee, that's a nice coat

you got there.

What?

Huh?

Your coat.

I'll make you a trade.

What have you got?

Nothing.

It's a deal!

You must believe me.

I've told you everything.

Then where

are your clothes?

That I can't tell you.

Why not?

You won't believe me.

I will. Mother,

where are your clothes?

I don't know.

I don't believe you.

Didn't I tell you

you wouldn't believe me?

I don't know

where they are.

I've never

been so humiliated.

I kept having

the most horrible nightmares.

I kept dreaming

my fingers were falling off

because I couldn't

make a fist. Ohh!

It's me.

Mr. Velasco,

are you all right?

If a broken toe

is all right, I'm fine.

Hello, Ethel.

Hello, Victor...

Mr. Victor...

Mr. Velasco.

I couldn't get up

the ladder again.

Did you tell Corie

what happened last night?

Why? What happened

last night?

Ooh, last night.

Yes.

Take his arm,

Mother.

I knew I would come to this,

being helped by women.

Oh, dear, does

your foot hurt?

Compared

to my stomach, no.

I think I have

a new ailment

which I shall call

"intestinal volcano. "

Are there little men

in there

running around

in spiked shoes?

And pointy

steel helmets,

and they keep

jumping up and down, up and down.

How long has

this been going on?

Hardly ever,

except after meals.

Welcome to my club.

I think

you have an ulcer.

An ulcer? Me?

From what?

Too many

spicy foods.

You'll have

to get used

to taking

little pink pills.

Oh, I'd rather die,

but first I must get

rid of this headache.

Do you have

about 300 aspirins?

I'm not as young

as I think I am.

Why do you say that?

Isn't it obvious?

Last night, I couldn't

carry you up the stairs.

I can't eat

rich food anymore.

I dye my hair, my...

Well, it's very nice.

Thank you.

So are you.

You know, Ethel, you are

a very unusual woman.

Unusual? In what way?

I took a long look

at you last night.

Do you know

what you are?

What?

A good sport.

Oh, a good sport.

To have gone through

all you did last night...

the trip to Staten Island,

the strange food,

being carried up

to my apartment like that.

If you remember, eh?

Ha ha ha!

Mr. Velasco,

where are my clothes?

Oh, your clothes. Here.

I'm sure I wore

more than that.

It's a cleaning ticket.

They're sending them up

at 4:
00.

Oh, they're

at the cleaners.

When did I

take them off?

You didn't. You were

drenched and out cold.

Gonzales took them off.

Mr. Gonzales?

Not Mister... Dr. Gonzales.

Oh, the doctor.

Dr. Gonzales.

I guess that's

all right, then.

How convenient to have

an M.D. In the building.

He is not an M.D.

He's a doctor

of philosophy.

Ha ha ha!

Here. Aspirin.

No, thank you.

I'm feeling

much better now.

I'll take them.

Well, I must go.

Someone is calling

about renting my apartment.

From now on,

I take elevators.

Ooh!

Is there anything

I can do for you?

Yes, there is.

Would you like to have

dinner with me tonight?

Me?

If you don't mind

eating plain food.

I love plain food.

Good. I'll call the New York Hospital

for a reservation.

I'll pick you up at 7:00.

Whatever you say,

Victor.

Now, that's funny.

I was getting

used to Walter.

You know what I

could use right now?

A double ouzo.

What I really could use

is a new outfit.

Mother,

can I talk to you?

Do you realize I slept without

a board last night?

For the first time

in years,

I slept

without a board!

You don't suppose

ouzo is some kind

of Greek miracle drug, do you?

There's something

I've got to talk to you about.

How sweet of you.

You're worried about me.

I'm not worried about you.

Oh, my hair.

I wonder what I

could do with my hair?

Paul and I are

getting a divorce.

A divorce?

That's right.

Paul and I

are splitting up for good.

You and Paul?

I don't believe you.

You saw him leave

with his suitcase.

What did you think

he had in there?

I know how neat he is.

I thought

maybe the garbage.

Mother, I believe you.

Why don't you believe me?

Because

in my entire life,

I've never seen two people more in love

than you and Paul.

Well, maybe that

was true yesterday,

but it sure

isn't true today.

It couldn't have

been all your fault.

No? Because of me, you were

running around without your clothes

and Paul is out there

in the streets with a cold,

looking for a place

to sleep.

Whose fault is that?

Yours.

You want to know something

that may shock you?

I still love you.

And Paul loves you, too.

And I love him.

I don't know

what he wants.

I don't know how

to make him happy.

What am I going

to do, Mother?

That's the first time

you've asked my advice

since you were 10.

It's really very simple.

All you have to do

is give up a little bit

of you for him.

Don't make

everything a game,

just late at night

in that little room upstairs,

take care of him.

Make him feel...

important.

If you can do that,

you'll have a happy

and wonderful marriage,

like 2 out

of every 10 couples.

You'll be one

of the two, baby.

Now get out of here

and go find him.

I've got a date.

Aunt Harriet isn't going

to believe a word of this.

If you don't hear

from me tomorrow,

I'll be in the Nacional Hotel

in Mexico City,

Room 703.

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