Marty Page #28

DISSOLVE TO:

MARTY'S HOUSE, DINING ROOM. AFTERNOON

Marty is seated at the dining room table. He has removed his

jacket, tie and shirt, even his shoes, and is making himself

comfortable over a late Sunday lunch. With him are Angie and

Joe, the Critic. Lounging in a chair but not at the table is

Leo.

JOE:

...so the whole book winds up, Mike

Hammer, he's inna room there with

this doll. So he says, "You rat, you

are the murderer." So she begins to

con him, you know? She tells him how

she loves him. And then Bam! He shoots

her in the stomach. So she's laying

there, gasping for breath, and she

says, "How could you do that?" And

he says, "It was easy."

LEO:

(without looking up

from his magazine)

Boy, that Mickey Spillane, boy he

can write.

Angie reaches over to Marty's plate and filches a piece of

rissole, evidently annoying Marty.

MARTY:

We gotta whole pot inna kitchen. We

give you a plate-a your own.

ANGIE:

Oh, I couldn't eat nothing. My mother

just stuffed me right up to the jaws.

This doesn't prevent him from filching a second piece of

rissole.

JOE:

What I like about Mickey Spillane is

he knows how to handle women. In one

book, he picks up a tomato who gets

hit with a car, and she throws a

pass at him. And then he meets two

beautiful twins, and they throw passes

at him. And then he meets some

beautiful society leader, and she

throws a pass at him, and...

LEO:

Boy, that Mickey Spillane, he sure

can write.

ANGIE:

Listen, somebody turn onna ballgame.

It must be after one o'clock by now.

Marty looks down at his watch, then stands and starts for

the phone, sitting on a chest of drawers at the other end of

the room.

ANGIE:

Who you gonna call?

MARTY:

I was gonna call that girl from last

night. Take her to a movie tonight.

ANGIE:

Are you kidding?

MARTY:

Listen, Angie, I wanna tell you, you

were very impolite last night. I

introduced you to the girl, you just

turned and walked off. Now, why did

you do that?

ANGIE:

You got me mad, that's why. Hey,

Joe, show Marty that picture.

Joe, having finished his dissertation on Mickey Spillane, is

now studying another girlie magazine. He proffers an opened

page to Marty, who stands over by the phone.

MARTY:

Put that away, for Pete's sake. My

mother's right out onna porch.

JOE:

I wonder where they find those girls

that pose for them pictures.

LEO:

Those are Hollywood starlets.

MARTY:

Put it away, Joe. My mother'll come

walking in.

Joe closes the magazine.

ANGIE:

Marty, let's go downna Seventy-Second

Street area tonight.

MARTY:

I don't feel like going, Angie. I

thought I'd take this girl to a movie.

ANGIE:

Boy, you really musta made out good

last night.

MARTY:

We just talked.

ANGIE:

Boy, she musta been some talker. She

musta been about fifty years old.

JOE:

I always figure a guy oughta marry a

girl who's twenny years younger than

he is so that when he's forty, his

wife is a real nice-looking doll.

LEO:

That means he'd have to marry the

girl when she was one year old.

JOE:

I never thoughta that.

MARTY:

I didn't think she was so bad-looking.

ANGIE:

She musta kept you inna shadows all

night.

RALPH:

Marty, you don't wanna hang around

with dogs. It gives you a bad

reputation.

ANGIE:

Let's go downa Seventy-Second Street.

MARTY:

I told this dog I was gonna call her

today about two-thirty.

ANGIE:

(angry)

Brush her. Listen, you wanna come

with me tonight, or you wanna go

with this dog?

MARTY:

Waddaya getting so sore about?

ANGIE:

I looked all over for you last night,

you know that?

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