Inserts Page #9

- Don't move your lips!

- Why not? You're photographing my meat.

And he is ripping you up the middle!

And loving your breasts!

And he is...

The wind's run out again.

Why did you do that?

I needed an insert of him grabbing her tits.

No, I mean...

why did you take your hands away like that?

Because I got the insert, Miss Cake.

It's kind of funny.

I mean, I'm not her and you're not him...

so that's really no excuse, is it?

I mean for taking your hands away...

so fast like that.

- Look-

- I know. It's just an insert, but...

it's kind of funny when you think about it,

you know what I mean?

I have warned you about this thinking,

Miss Cake.

Yeah, I know, that's kind of funny, too...

'cause when you were touching me, it felt

like you were thinking about something.

Touch precludes thought, Miss Cake.

What you felt was merely an illusion.

Hollywood magic.

And what did you feel?

Meat.

It must have been magic then...

because it looked like you were touching...

soft, trembling mounds.

- Look, Miss Cake.

- What's next?

Your c*nt. I want to shoot your c*nt.

I beg your pardon?

Your slot.

I want to do a beaver shot.

Don't you think you're being a little crude?

I thought that might be the bottom line.

I guess the party's over, Miss Cake.

We didn't do too badly.

I got half my shots,

you learned what inserts were.

- What are you doing?

- Getting ready for the beaver shot.

Getting my c*nt ready.

- Okay, knock it off.

- Knock what off?

Okay. Fine. Great.

You've made your point. Now drop it.

Funny stuff.

Cute bit.

When you do get to the real movies,

you ought to suggest comedy to Big Mac.

Slow down, let's take it a step at a time.

We haven't finished this one yet.

Funny stuff, Miss Cake. You're just growing

as a comedienne in leaps and bounds.

You're growing, too.

Okay, Miss Cake. You've made your point.

Now you don't have to prove

anything to me.

So who's proving anything? Let's do

the c*nt shot. You got the camera wound?

- Don't use that word, Miss Cake.

- What, "c*nt"?

- Think it might be a little crude?

- I think it might be a little insincere.

On whose part?

- You are moving too fast, Miss Cake.

- We're just growing, that's all...

both of us, growing in leaps and bounds.

Let's do the c*nt shot.

Listen, God damn it.

Sorry. Beaver, slot, twat, whatever it is.

So let's do it.

- Listen, God damn it, Miss Cake.

- What do you want me to call it?

You tell me what it is, okay?

You tell me what this is.

It's a pity, is what it is.

It's a goddamn pity that you don't have...

more respect for yourself as a human being.

A human being?

That doesn't

tell me very much about my c*nt.

I don't have to tell you anything about it.

I just have to, you know, photograph it.

Since you've been impetuous enough to

flash it at me like some common street tart.

You told me about all else when

you were photographing it.

Merely in the quest for a performance.

We're dealing here with a more or less...

passive organ, Miss Cake, despite the fact

that you have been shoving it in my face.

- Now, shut up and lie down.

- You don't think I can make it perform?

I don't care.

We are dealing here

with a very undiscerning audience.

You know, Miss Cake, you've seen one,

then you've seen them all.

Are you talking about c*nts or audiences?

Miss Cake, if you'd just be quiet

for about three seconds...

I might get this done.

Listen, take your time. I'm in no hurry.

Yeah? You may not be.

All right, would you hold still, please?

Me? It's you. You're shaking like a leaf.

Quiet. Just quiet on the set.

Want me to spread my legs a little?

No, that's fine. It's just fine.

It's fine just the way it is. Thank you.

Okay.

Okay.

We're rolling. Action.

All right, thank you.

That's very fine work.

You may now get dressed.

I don't think so.

- You don't think so what?

- I don't think I may now get dressed.

You don't?

I think maybe

there's a little something left for us to do.

- You do?

- Yeah, I do. After all, we made a deal.

Okay.

We have arrived at the crossroads.

We have finally arrived

at what is called the...

delicate situation. I...

Would you like a drink?

- No, thanks. What is it?

- Cognac. It's very good, really.

It's not that bathtub stuff

that Big Mac sells-

What's the delicate situation?

There comes a time in every motion picture

of this sort when one must...

by edict of the genre, so to speak...

actually photograph the act of...

penetration...

as it were. The come shot, so to speak.

Okay, so let's do it.

I don't think you quite understand,

Miss Cake.

Look, I said I wanted to do it all.

I know what you told me, Miss Cake.

I have ears, you know.

But what one says and what one

is actually prepared to do...

What are you looking at?

You poor baby.

- I beg your pardon?

- We can do it.

We can do it together.

Do what, Miss Cake?

I'm really afraid, I don't quite-

Get your rope to rise. You did it just a

minute ago and you weren't even trying.

- For the love of God, Miss Cake.

- You poor baby. You're shaking like a leaf.

Delirium tremens

brought on by this rotgut cognac.

Silly boy.

I know you can do it. I saw you

with my own eyes just a few minutes ago.

Merely an illusion, Miss Cake.

What you saw was Hollywood magic.

There wasn't anything magic about it.

I saw it with my own eyes.

It was probably some sort of...

prostate tremor...

brought on by the delirium tremens.

Can you imagine, every studio in town

is being fuelled by this swill?

Don't hand me that.

You've been sucking on that all day...

and it hasn't done a thing for you.

Delirium tremens. What a load of bunk.

All right, now. Miss Cake.

Cut out that "Miss Cake" crap.

Call me Cathy.

- Look, Miss Cake.

- Cathy.

- Look, Cathy.

- There, you see?

- See what?

- Look at yourself and tell me that's a tremor.

Curious.

I don't recall having put a banana

in my pocket.

I put it there.

We put it there together. Come on,

quick, say it again before it goes away.

- Say what?

- Say Cathy.

- Don't be absurd-

- It's not absurd. Come on, say it.

I won't.

Fool, you want to get this movie done?

Come on now, quick. Say it.

- Oh, for Christ's sake.

- Say it.

Cathy, okay.

You're being a fool.

Come on, say it softly. Say it sweet.

- Cathy.

- There you go. Now say it again.

Now you're cooking with gas.

"Cathy, darling. "

I beg your pardon?

Say it, you fool.

Cathy, darling.

That's no tremor, it's a head-on collision.

Now try, "I love you. "

It's starting to melt.

Okay, take your pants off.

I will not.

Like a little boy. Like a silly little boy.

Look at this, doesn't even have

the sense to wear underwear.

Rinsing in the pool, I-

Now I'm going to show you.

Now I'm going to tell you.

What is that?

Meat.

No, it's not. It's magic.

It's your magic flute.

But if you want your rope to rise,

you've got to play it yourself.

Feel it.

Not like that. You know how it's done.

It's the way you want it yourself.

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