Humoresque Page #7

- Where's that magazine?

The one that said I'm

the white hope of the musical world.

It's gotta be easy enough to find.

You bought 12 copies.

Here it is.

- Not bad.

- First, they discovered Bugs Bunny...

...then Jack Benny and Shostakovich.

Now the great Paul Boray!

What? Don't I rate their praises?

You rate a kick in the pants

if you believe everything.

The prosecuting attorney in my life.

You won't let me think I'm good.

- Your schooling's ahead, Paul.

- That's tough.

You follow one success with another.

Then we'll see how tough you are.

- Mom, Pop, how are you?

- Hello, Paul.

Come on in.

- Hello, Sidney.

- Hello.

- How do you like it, huh?

- Wonderful.

Well, it looks bigger than it is.

It's only two rooms, a bedroom,

this room and kitchen.

I'm gonna work in here.

Come on, look around.

We got a real view.

We can see the river.

You know, we can get a sea breeze too.

Why, it's an eagle's nest.

- How do you like it, Mom?

- Where did you get the drapes?

Mrs. Wright picked them out.

You like them?

- Nice drapes.

- That's the kitchen. It's not very big.

But then I'm not a very good cook.

Well, Sidney, what do you think

of my Paul's apartment?

I don't know what to say.

Paul has an itch to live a life of fashion

and nothing will cure him.

Everything's so expensive and fancy,

but what is this ugly pot doing here?

My psychoanalyst told me it reminds me

of something that happened in my youth.

So long as you're happy, Sidney,

that's all that matters.

Esther, look, our picture's in

a silver frame. It's nice, isn't it?

A woman told me this morning

I look like an owl. I don't see it.

I think Mom's still mad at me.

Paul, you know women. All mothers

think their son's a baby till he gets bald.

No, I don't think

she likes the apartment.

I don't think she thinks

it's right. Do you?

Well, with all due respect,

there are some things, but...

Paul, do what you think is right.

Statistics show you'll never be wrong.

- Now, what's through here?

- The bedroom, dressing room and shower.

A room for every occasion.

It's wonderful.

- What do you think you'll find, Mom?

- What I find wherever I look.

- I can't take this seriously.

- You don't know what you're doing.

- Mom, don't be old-fashioned.

- Is that what you call it?

It's your life, but remember, I told you.

All right. I'm in love with her.

Is that what you want me to say?

You know what she is. There's

something wrong with a woman like that.

- Please, you don't know what you're saying.

- Believe me, it's no good.

- What can marriage mean to her?

- You never gave her a chance.

You never liked her, never tried.

- I won't have you talk about her.

- I need your permission?

Don't try to tell me what to do!

Paul, did you know man is 60 percent

water? I read it in the paper the other day.

There's a leak here.

Talk to the landlord about it.

I'll talk to him.

- Is it really possible to hit the bull's eye?

- Yes, with practice.

- Like everything else, I suppose.

- Like most things.

Had a curious conversation

the other day.

A friend of mine...

...wanted some advice.

He's having trouble...

...with his wife.

A young man involved.

And he, my friend,

doesn't quite know what to do.

Of course, he hasn't

the right to do anything.

- No? Why?

- He's only an excuse for a man, really.

Never done very much.

Never wanted to.

Fates and a few energetic ancestors...

...have allowed him to lead

a rather soft and easy life.

On the whole, he prefers it that way.

Naturally, his wife...

...quite a personality

in her own right, never liked that.

Always a bit contemptuous of him.

The peculiar thing is that

he loves his wife very much.

In his own way, of course.

He's never been able

to prove it to her.

Not man enough, I suppose.

Not enough character,

as the Good Book says.

Still, he's learned to make less mess

in public than any man living.

Of course, that's only a negative virtue.

It doesn't fool a wife for very long.

What do you know?

I hit the bull's eye.

So all things considered, he's thinking

of giving his wife a divorce.

- You think that's a reasonable solution?

- Victor, stop it.

- Why don't you.

- There's nothing to stop.

- Rumor has it otherwise.

- Only rumor?

No backstairs gossip?

No anonymous letters?

I'm sorry, Helen...

...rumor is a dubious

and rather nasty authority.

What can this boy give you?

Suppose you do marry him...

...how long would it last?

How long before you get tired

of him, or he of you?

You know yourself better

than anyone else, Helen.

Can you change now?

And if you don't, do you really

believe he'll change?

He doesn't know

what it means to be soft.

Nothing means anything

to him but music.

- I never said I wanted to marry him.

- Do you love him?

You say you've loved me, Victor.

But what kind of a love has it been?

I know you've always been courteous

and always remembered my birthday.

But is that the final sum and substance

of our marriage? Courtesy and greetings?

I know what I am.

I know what I've become.

I've never had the chance to love.

You don't like emotions.

They're wearing. They make demands.

They interfere with the pleasant life.

So I've learned to hide away love

and hate and everything strong in me.

I've tucked them away

where they wouldn't bother us.

We've hung a sign on our lives,

"Do Not Disturb."

You can have the divorce, Helen.

- Mr. Boray, a note for you.

- Thanks.

- May we take it again from letter G, please?

- Certainly.

- Thanks.

- Letter G.

- Hello?

- Hello, Sid?

- Yeah?

- Have you seen Helen?

She was supposed to meet me

at the club for dinner.

It's 2:
30 in the morning.

Have dinner alone.

- Stop kidding. Have you seen her?

- She was with Loeffler. Try Teddy's bar.

- Okay.

- lf not, call me back in an hour.

I ought to be asleep by then.

Does she have to sing that?

Why don't you hire

a good trombone player, Teddy.

Ask her to stop, Teddy.

She's annoying Mrs. Wright.

No offense, I hope, Teddy.

No offense, Mrs. Wright.

No offense.

Well, what do you know?

This place is haunted.

Hello, Paul.

How about a drink

for the gentleman, Teddy.

What are you looking at?

Don't you want a drink?

- Gentleman's changed his mind.

- You've had enough.

I'm thirsty.

- Nothing for you? Sure?

- Nothing.

I wanna take you home.

The gallant knight.

Quiet. Soft music.

My friend's being considerate.

He wants to take me home.

- The way you took me to dinner?

- I'm sorry. I was held up.

- The rehearsal lasted longer.

- I can't spend my life waiting.

- I came as soon as I could.

- Wasn't soon enough.

Helen, I'm tired.

- Only the usual.

- I wanna go home, get some rest.

- Go ahead.

- You're coming.

Leave me alone.

Go back to your music. I'm tired of playing

second fiddle to the ghost of Beethoven.

- Put it down.

- Mind your own business.

- No offense. Mind your own business.

- I said, put it down.

- Look, I don't think Mrs. Wright wants...

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