Designing Woman Page #5

Don't tell me it's impossible.

Nothing's impossible.

- Who said that?

- The bongo number.

I have no idea what I may do

with the bongo number.

I may go completely insane.

And if I do, I want the clothes

to go completely insane with me.

I admire your honesty

in admitting you can't do it.

- I haven't admitted anything.

- We have five weeks.

- She couldn't learn in five years.

- I could do it in five days.

- Will you?

- Yes!

Good.

We got what we came for.

May we leave now?

When can we get together?

Zach, please give me a few days.

I've got the fashion show.

I want to have a reading of the play

for you creative minds.

How about Wednesday night?

- I'll have the others.

- Zach, will you please get him out?

- Wednesday night.

- Yeah, Wednesday night.

- Randy?

- I don't think I'll do a bongo number.

Did I ever tell you the idea...

Let's tear this up and start all over again.

Tear it apart.

Two, three...

...four, five...

I'll say one thing:

Marilla was the best-dressed fight fan

the seconds had ever seen.

Hi, girI.

Am I late? I'm sorry.

That jersey print came in

and I had to tell them how to cut it.

- How are you?

- Fine.

- Who's winning?

- Galatos. It's a slaughter.

Give it to him!

Where did you get that thing?

Who told you, you could fight,

you groundhog?

How are you, Mike? Congratulations.

- Thanks.

- You didn't return my call.

Calls, Mr. Daylor. About 20 of them.

I read again yesterday

that I'm a very disreputable character.

What was that phrase?

"A hydra-headed monster"?

"Feeding with all nine mouths

on the boxing game. "

My boy at Princeton was quite upset.

They don't appreciate that at Princeton.

- He can switch to Harvard.

- Be reasonable.

I'm a family man.

I've got a lot of responsibilities.

I admit I take a dollar or two

under the table, but I pay all my taxes.

- I don't kick dogs.

- Just people, huh?

Throw the bums out of the ring!

Joey Yustick shouldn't be within 10 miles

of a prize ring and you know it.

He gets his brains loosened

every time he climbs in there.

But he pays you extra dues,

so you see to it he gets plenty of action.

He's over 21.

He's over 41, Mr. Daylor.

Read about it tomorrow.

Mike, some day you'll wake up

and find your typewriter smashed.

Throw the referee out!

I'm Mrs. Hagen.

Mike is forgetfuI sometimes.

- It's a pleasure. I'm Martin Daylor.

- How do you do?

Martin Daylor?

I know I've seen that name someplace.

Aren't you the man

Mike's been writing about in his column?

I'm the man.

- I hope you enjoy the fights, Mrs. Hagen.

- Thank you.

- Good night.

- Good night.

How did I know?

He certainly doesn't look like a crook.

I'd never take him for a crook.

How many crooks have you known?

A new side of Mike. A man in a huff.

He didn't want to talk,

so I had to watch the fight, too.

It was awful.

One of the men, the older one,

was being punched constantly.

You wouldn't think they'd get hit so much

with those heavy gloves on.

The gloves are to protect their hands.

Mike, sarcasm doesn't become you.

No, it's true.

The gloves are to protect their hands.

All right, if that's the way you want to be.

I don't think I like fights.

A lot of people do.

Not all of them.

To some people it's very boring.

Boring?

Look at those people.

They're reading newspapers.

They're not reading.

They hold them that way

in case the blood splatters.

That was all I needed.

Mike, take me out of here.

- Are you okay?

- I'm fine. I'm sorry, Mike.

That's all right.

Come summer,

I'll take you to the tennis matches.

- Mike, boy.

- Not now, Charlie.

Mike, I got a little something for you.

Got a slice of information.

- Tomorrow.

- It's a very warm slice, Mike.

I could let you have it

for a Ulysses S. Grant.

I haven't got-

Two Andrew Jacksons might do the trick.

- No.

- I got the shorts reaI bad, Mike.

- No.

- How about a Lincoln?

- Not even a Lincoln?

- Charlie-

I'm desperate. Three Washingtons.

Here. Now, go away, please.

- Don't you even want the hot slice?

- No. Thanks, Charlie.

Mike. You're people.

- Who is he, Mike?

- That's Charlie Arneg.

He's also known as "Charlie the Sneak. "

He peddles information.

- What kind of information?

- Any. Charlie's not fussy.

What was all that talk about

Ulysses S. Grant and Andrew Jackson?

Ulysses S. Grant is a $50 bill.

- It is?

- It's got Grant's picture on it.

Andrew Jackson's $20, Lincoln is $5-

- Washington is $1.

- That's right.

Very interesting. But why does he do it?

He's trying to get

into a Damon Runyon story, who knows?

Mike, you're working. Go on back.

I'll wait right here.

- No, no.

- Please, I'll be fine.

I'm really perfectly fine. Now, you go on.

Well, okay.

I'll come back to see you between fights.

- Hey, Mike.

- Larry, boy.

- What's the matter, you quitting?

- No.

- My place next week, okay?

- Okay.

That's Larry Musso. You'll meet him.

I invited the regular crowd

for poker next Wednesday.

Wednesday?

- Anything wrong with that?

- No. That's fine. Just fine.

The show crowd was coming

that night, too.

It started out a bad evening,

and worsened steadily.

Play cards. Play cards.

- What are they doing in there?

- Reading a play.

Who's reading it, Jack Benny?

"Ronnie appears at the top of the steps:

"'Aunt Agatha, she's done it again. "'

Boy, this is one I have to see.

Play cards.

This is where I want to do

the undersea ballet.

You can't do an undersea ballet.

Why not?

Because you're still

in the drawing room set.

- It has doors, doesn't it?

- Yes, but-

That's all we need.

Behind closed doors anything can happen.

It's the basis of all my work.

The entrance of the unexpected.

A closed door.

When this door opens,

anything can come through.

Sea horses.

I'll get the sandwiches.

Aces.

- How's the game going, dear?

- Yeah.

- Did you want something?

- Well, yeah. The food, if it's ready.

I'm sure it is.

- Everybody ante?

- I'm in.

I'll get it. You go and play, dear.

Fred deals the cards.

- Mike Hagen live here? The poker game.

- Mike Hagen? Yes.

Thank you. My name's Maxie Stulz.

I'm his best friend.

Yes. Mike.

- You Mrs. Hagen, lady?

- Yes-

Then I'll tell you something.

Don't worry, you know?

Any time anybody make trouble,

you tell Maxie Stulz.

I take care of him good, right?

So you got nothing to worry about.

Nothing, right? Where's the game?

In there.

- Hello, boys.

- Hi, Maxie.

How you been? Glad you could make it.

I feeI pretty good, Mr. Hagen.

I'm making a comeback, you know.

You're the boy that can do it, Maxie.

And Solly Horzmann's gonna manage me,

right, Solly?

Sure, like I told you. Sit down, Maxie.

- DeaI me in.

- Okay.

Who is he?

- Who?

- That man with no nose.

- He has a nose. It's inside.

- But who is he?

That's Maxie Stulz. He used to be

middleweight champ. He's punchy.

- What?

- Punchy. Punch-drunk.

We let him sit in for a couple of hands

every Wednesday. We make sure he wins.

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