Infamous Page #5

is to rise above it.

I had a similar experience with my friend,

Tennessee Williams.

The artist and intellectual?

Never mind.

Nobody here likes this kind of thing.

I do.

I'd like to hear it.

Well, Tennessee

and I were in this bar once...

...when this very drunk woman

came up to me and said:

"May I have your autograph?"

I said, "Why, yes, dear."

She said she didn't have

a piece of paper.

So she pulled up her shirt,

pointed to her bellybutton...

...and asked me to autograph that.

So then she hands me an eyebrow pencil...

...and I write my name all the way around

her navel like a sundial.

All of the sudden appears her angry

and very drunk husband who says:

"Since you're in the mood for signing things,

why don't you sign this?"

And with that, he unzipped his fly

and hauled out his manhood.

Well, what'd you do?

Well, the room was graveyard silent.

I looked him up and down

and said, calm as I could:

"Well, I don't know if I could autograph it,

but perhaps I could initial it."

What kind of stuff does

Tennessee Williams write?

I know his name,

I just can't think what are his books.

He's a dramatist.

He wrote A Streetcar Named Desire.

- That Brando was in?

- The very same.

Marlon Brando is the f***ing king!

Now, he's one of my two favorite actors.

- Who's the other?

- Humphrey Bogart.

I beat Humphrey Bogart.

And Alvin Dewey too.

This is the most black-hearted thing

you have ever done, Nelle Harper Lee...

...and I will never forgive you.

Oh, hush your silliness.

You're all set now. Perry's ready to talk.

I need my life back.

There are a few fires I need to rekindle.

Well, goodbye.

I hate you!

Thank you. You too.

- How's the vanquisher of Bogart?

- Okay.

Tell me more about him.

Well, I think we should talk

about some other things first.

Like what?

Nothing.

I just don't have a lot more about Bogie.

I do have a very amusing story

about Marlon Brando.

I once spent an entire evening with him,

just the two of us...

...and he told me all about his life

before he became a star.

Are you guys friends?

Well, I wouldn't say that.

He's told people he wants to kill me.

What for?

He didn't like the way I portrayed him

in my article.

He claims he told me certain things

off the record.

Well, you couldn't just check your notes?

I never take notes.

I employ a memory technique that gives me

almost a hundred percent retention.

Well, "almost" is the key f***ing word.

I may miss a word, but never a meaning.

If you miss the right word, you will.

You've got a hell of a f***ing nerve.

What are you trying to bother

a great actor like Brando for?

You misunderst...

See, this is why I don't

wanna to talk to you!

If you want to make me look

like some a**hole, you will.

Perry, I never judge my characters.

Well, here's something for you

to remember all 100 percent of...

...I am not a character.

I'm a human-f***ing-being.

- Guard!

- Perry Edward Smith!

I am writing this book

with or without you.

You can get involved, so I can make you

a three-dimensional human being...

...or you can continue this foolishness...

...and I will head straight back to New York

and write what I want!

Is this my party?

Truman!

Welcome home, my darling.

We missed you so much.

I don't believe I've ever said this:

Tell us about the killers.

Well, their names are Dick Hickock

and Perry Smith.

- Have you met them?

- Met them?

My dear, I've been in their cells.

I have goose flesh.

When you're talking to them,

they seem like perfectly nice boys.

To be frank, I'm much more concerned

for my safety around Norman Mailer.

Dick speaks about what happened

without any sense that it was wrong.

- It was just something that happened.

- What about Terry?

No, it's Perry. As in Antoinette.

He's an enigma.

You know, before he killed the Clutter boy

he put a pillow under his head.

And he wouldn't let Dick rape the girl.

- He's not all kind.

- Jack's right.

After these demonstrations of gentility,

he did shoot them dead.

And cut the old man's throat.

There's something...

...I can't quite put my finger on it.

It seems insane to say that he's tender...

...but he does have the tender

and the terrible side by side inside him.

He's very...

He's very?

Never mind that.

Let's go around the table...

...and you can all tell me whom

you're having affairs with.

Oh, goody.

Bennett?

In his letters, Tru Heart always says:

"What's the new thing that everyone loves?"

And, as any of us with children know...

...the big new thing is not on Broadway

or even on CBS.

Sorry, darling.

- It's this.

- And you see your child bring it home...

...and you think,

"I am simply gonna have to slit my wrists."

And five minutes later...

...you're doing it.

Doors closed, of course,

but you just can't resist it.

I did.

Well, a**holes aren't much for dancing.

Oh, dear.

How's your writing coming, Jack?

Well, let's hear it.

Well, when Babe told me anyone

could learn it...

...I bet her $ 100 she couldn't teach me,

and I now owe her $ 100.

Slim and I will show you how it's done,

and then we hope you'll jump right in.

- You, especially.

- Needle's on.

Oh, my word.

- Come on, my protg.

- All right, teacher.

When she taught me,

I said, "What are the other steps?"

She said, "There are no other steps."

- Who's next?

- Who else?

No, how do I?

That's what I said. It's not a dance.

- You're putting the cigarette out.

- Oh, putting the cigarette out.

Truman?

- Just put your foot out there.

- Oh, wonderful.

What are you doing there?

You're doing something with your arms.

- Then we go down.

- Oh, my word. What is that, flamenco?

I'm so sorry about Jack.

I almost fainted when he insulted Bill.

Bill can take it, believe me.

Jack has a moral certainty

that's so oppressive.

Moral in what way?

Just that anything fun

is a crime against my art...

...certainly not moral in a personal way.

We have an understanding

that if we need something sexual...

...and the other isn't there to provide it,

that...

I understand.

I hardly ever wander, but he does.

We don't discuss it.

I can allow it more if I know less about it.

But doesn't even the idea upset you?

I mean, how can you bear to think of...

...or keep yourself from picturing...?

Honey, what is it?

Bill is having an affair.

Babaling, no.

Please, you absolutely must not breathe

a word of this to anyone.

It will die inside me.

How did you find out?

Our bed sheets were stained.

- Okay, well, now I could vomit.

- Of course, he couldn't give it to the maid.

Well, no.

So, he got on his hands and knees

in front of the tub, and he scrubbed them.

But it didn't quite come out.

And when I got back I noticed

this odd outline on the sheets.

And I said, like a fool, I mean,

not even suspecting, I said...

I said:

"What on earth is that?"

I thought Mary Lee had bleached them.

But then I looked at Bill

and there was that...

...that look on his face.

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