Dogfight Page #4

I understand. But it's late. We were asleep.

I know, I'm very sorry, it's just...

We'd just like one jacket

so Eddie can look his best.

- Please, darling, hurry.

- Okay, darling.

I'm hurrying as fast as possible.

Eddie's having trouble making decisions.

He's shook up.

What the hell's going on?

They're going to a funeral.

Rose, that was outstanding bullshit.

I was really impressed.

It wasn't easy with you

throwing jackets all over.

Good evening. Dinner for two, please.

Thanks.

Look. It's so nice, so clean!

Rose, what do you think of this one?

Hey, friendly. Over here.

This will be just fine, thanks.

Please.

It's my pleasure.

Thank you so much.

You've been so wonderful.

This is for you. $1.

- That won't be necessary.

- Please, I insist!

You're worth $1. Isn't he?

See? You are worth $1.

Thank you so much for your time and effort.

Just wait till I'm through with him.

He won't know whether to sh*t or go blind.

You've had your fun.

Why do you have to do this?

Someone dumps on me five pounds,

I dump back fifty.

I'm not through with that jack-off, yet.

If you spend the night

making him miserable...

...Im going home.

- What?

- I'm serious.

What are you talking about?

We came here to have a nice dinner.

And I'd like some respect from him.

You deserve respect, too.

We're paying just like everyone else.

That's how you get respect?

People are such goddamn idiots.

I know they are.

But what's the point of spending all your

energy trying to get even with everybody?

Because it feels great.

It feels f***ing great, especially...

And what's the point of every word

out of your mouth being a curse word?

Are you ready to order now?

Yes, goddamn it.

I'm going to have

the f***ing poached salmon...

...with the son-of-a-bitching rice...

...and a dirty-bastard salad...

...with a shitload of Roquefort dressing.

Thank you.

And who knows what this a**hole wants.

I'll just take a f***ing beer.

Thank you.

- That's all you're going to have, a beer?

- Yeah.

You must be starved.

No, I'm not starved.

- Here you are.

- Thank you.

I'll just put this over here for now.

Poached salmon and rice pilaf.

It's beautiful. Isn't this beautiful?

Yeah. That looks good, real good.

See, you are hungry.

Why didn't you order anything?

I couldn't pay for it.

I can pay for that, and for this,

but that's all till payday.

What's that for?

What are you doing?

Thanks.

I'm going to hit the head.

Okay I'll wait outside.

I know that he was so rude to you.

But I don't think it's fair

to prejudge people...

...on how they look or how they're dressed.

Don't you think?

Thank you.

So, what are you grinning about?

I was wondering what you'd look like

with your hair a little longer, and without...

...that bruise on your face.

Well, not much better. That's for sure.

We've got a saying:

"Shot at and missed. Sh*t at and hit."

That's me.

So, I should take you home soon.

Right? It's kind of late.

I don't know.

I feel like walking. You feel like walking?

Sure.

Thanks for dinner.

- You're so welcome.

- It was really nice.

It's probably the most expensive meal

I ever had.

We had to relocate to Missouri.

Soon as I got there,

I tried to join the Air Force...

...but their recruiter was out to lunch.

The Marine Corps recruiter sees me

pacing there in the post office and says:

"Eleanor Roosevelt was talking about you."

Eleanor Roosevelt?

Yeah. So I say, "That's quite a trick,

seeing as she's dead."

He says, "She said it before she died.

"She called you an oversexed, overtrained,

underfed, underpaid killing machine."

I thought he was crazy.

So I asked him, I said:

"What the hell are you talking about? "

He says, "She was talking about Marines.

"And you sure as hell

look like a Marine to me."

I thought that was pretty neat.

So I bolted home, got the old man,

brought him back...

...and he signed those papers so damn fast

he nearly sprained his wrist.

I was a little sh*t back then,

but I was only 16.

I don't think you're a little sh*t.

Gee, thanks.

- There you go.

- It's a beauty.

Out-f***ing-standing.

I mean, out-f***ing-standing!

Get up. Me next.

Okay, and remember...

...exact same bee

on the exact same spot for him.

Gotcha.

And remember, there's another one

of us coming. Birdlace.

He ain't here yet,

but exact same thing for him.

Same spot and same bee.

Yeah. Yeah.

'Cause there's four of us.

Four Bees.

There's Birdlace and Berzin.

My name's Buell.

Goddamn it, Okie! Leave the f***ing guy

alone, for Christ's sakes.

He's Benjamin.

Eddie, will I get to see you some more?

I don't know. You want to?

Yeah.

Okay, then I'll take you out

as soon as I get back.

Get back from where?

Well, I'm shipping out

first thing tomorrow morning.

Going overseas.

- Where are you going?

- Okinawa.

But I'm aiming for this other place.

It's a little country near India

called Vietnam.

I read about it.

- Aren't they fighting there or something?

- No, not really.

We'll just be there as advisers

to teach them how to handle the Commies.

That could be dangerous.

No.

Kick a little ass, take a few names.

Be back in a couple of months.

Why didn't you tell me before

that you were leaving?

I thought it would sound like bullshit.

You know, something just to say

to get into your skivvies.

- Would you mind if I wrote you?

- Me? Hell, no. That would be great.

Want to go to this club in North Beach

called the Still Life Cafe?

I want to sing there one day.

When I write about it, you'll understand.

Yeah. Sure.

We don't have to. I thought it'd be nice,

but if you have to get back, that's okay.

As long as I'm back for formation

in the morning, it's fine.

Okay.

- You got to write me, too.

- I will.

You don't seem much

like the letter-writing kind.

- You okay?

- I'm fine.

I just don't like blood.

Sorry. I can't help it.

You sure you're okay?

I'm fine.

You'll be done soon, right?

Real soon. Looking nice.

I can't believe we finally did it.

We talked about getting these bees

for two months.

There you go. It's a bee. It's my bee.

My bee is smiling.

Berzin, your bee have a smile on his face?

This one has a huge grin.

I don't think that's me.

You see the tits on this broad?

Nice pair.

This gonna look the same?

Exact same bee? Exact same spot?

Ever been with somebody

with tits like that?

- Sure. Haven't you?

- Yeah, sure.

- Really?

- Yes.

Okay.

- Okie, how you doing?

- No sweat.

Where's f***ing Birdlace? It's his turn.

I tell you what. If Birdlace

doesn't show up, I'll get his for him.

So Jim Swaine doesn't exist.

And you don't know

who Woody Guthrie is or Pete Seeger.

The only folk singers I know

is Peter, Paul and Mary.

- There they are now.

- Very funny.

Peter, Paul and Mary

are not real folk singers.

- No?

- No.

Real folk singers write their own stuff.

They say what's on their minds.

- They can make things happen.

- How's that?

Their music can change the world.

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