The Gambler Page #2

But do you know who does write

at the highest level?

When most of us and even I...

Even I write barely adequately?

Do you know who it is?

In this room. Who is it?

Don't give me that look.

No, no, no, no, no.

It isn't the one who talks the most.

You're an NPR host, tops.

Okay?

The literary person in here

is Miss Phillips.

She's the least obstreperous

in this room,

the quietest,

and the only one

who can have a real career at letters.

Some of you can have one perceptually.

Only she can have one in reality.

She is better at writing

than our U.S. presently

amateur number two

is at tennis.

Yet she chooses to hide,

or just blend in with the rest of you.

Why?

Why is that, Miss Phillips?

I...

Being in the middle

is the safest place to be.

Where do you come from?

- Ohio.

- Ohio.

Parents are geniuses, by any chance?

Filthy rich?

No.

Well, your dad wasn't

the Earl of Oxford, was he?

No.

No?

How old were you when you read?

I was two.

Two? Well, that's early.

That's prodigious.

Any advantages? Literary home life?

Who's your father?

Well...

He worked in a factory.

Well, your mother?

I don't...

- What was...

- She was an alcoholic.

She was insane.

Wait, wasn't your dad...

I don't see how this is pertinent.

No money,

no advantages, no peer of the realm.

You're not the Earl of Oxford, are you?

No?

Then why are you better

than the rest of us?

No, you look at me.

You are better than the rest of us.

If no one's told you yet

you're a genius and an artist,

let me be the first.

Okay. I don't know if you can say that.

'Cause I think it's subjective, man.

I mean, we all have something to offer.

Bullshit.

Genius is magical, not material.

If you don't have the magic,

no amount of wishing will make it so.

Miss Phillips,

if you plan to continue

to come to my class,

you sit in the front where you belong

or don't bother showing up.

Have a nice day.

So, I mean, if you

can step in in some way, I...

Dean Fuller?

May I have a word?

More words?

The athletic department has asked

how a certain person is doing.

You mean the certain person

who cannot stay off his phone?

I mean, you do realise

that this certain person

cannot write at a high school level,

never mind a collegiate one.

That doesn't matter though,

right? I mean, come on.

Half the f***ing

tenured faculty would be

flogged to death for idiocy

at ordinary grammar school,

in any previous century, so...

Why would it matter?

Why do you care about that

if you don't care about anything?

You're probably right.

Motherf***er!

I'll never beat you, Mr Dexter.

But if you ever give me a point again,

I'll fire you.

Good luck in the finals.

Thank you, ma'am.

Why do you need the money?

If you were escaping for a purpose,

maybe I'd buy it.

Well, going on as I am

is the only thing I've got.

That's sophistical.

It's beneath you.

I think you would agree

that modification is possible.

Do you?

I know you're in real trouble.

I know this is all connected

to your grandfather's death.

But you're not narcissistic enough to

put on a show,

nor are you an adolescent.

And I think it goes without saying

that you're far from stupid.

You're my son.

But you have to understand...

...I've said good-bye before

to people I love.

Yeah, whatever did happen to Dad?

I have done it many, many times.

I don't want to know

the nature of your problem.

I just want you not to have it any more.

I'm not giving you any more.

Hey.

You Jim Bennett?

- Yeah.

- Get in.

Big Ernie.

You're not that big.

I'm not talking about my jacket, brother.

You know, with all due respect,

I'm not interested in your johnson, so...

Sure you are.

It has been so since the Greeks.

I can't argue with that, I guess.

A friend of mine says

that you're a teacher.

I'm associate professor.

The amount of cash

you want is more than

I am ordinarily disposed

to loan out, unless, say,

you're a medium-sized

country with the ability

to raise taxes under

the threat of military force.

Or...

a Eurotrash cokehead

who has a father that can be squeezed

after the little prick's

micro-budget sci-fi film

doesn't get picked up at Sundance.

Are you following me?

You have family that can be squeezed?

I'm saying that rhetorically.

Let's just deal with this as gentlemen,

who understand each other, please.

No.

I need for us to treat each other

like we're not gentlemen

and that we're very, very stupid.

Okay. There's no family.

There's never any family.

What do you make?

$100,000, $150,000 a year?

$200,000 before taxes?

What's wrong with you?

You got brain damage?

Some fundamental disability?

$200,000 is a monk!

And you, a monk,

owe that Korean son of a b*tch,

that prince of f***ing darkness,

that much already.

And then another $50,000,

excluding the vig, to Neville Baraka,

who will kill you,

because when you cut cards

he got the king of spades

and you laughed at him.

You're pretty well informed.

You borrowed 50K

from a very dangerous man

after he was already going to kill you.

Yes, I did.

Birth, education, intelligence, talent,

looks, family money,

has all this been

some real comprehensive

f***ing burden for you?

I see two problems.

One, the world at his feet, in this town,

and he's a f***ing monk

because, apparently, "F*** it."

Two, he wants to dance with the devil

for some unspecified reason,

and therefore owes money

to Korean murderers,

and talks about a schvartze's hat

in a place where you can get killed,

and they merely drop your body up

the Angeles Crest.

Three, he wants to borrow

a quarter of a million dollars

to pay off debts,

which he will, in fact,

not pay off because,

to go back to point two, he's suicidal.

Just let me know

what you can do for me, all right?

If I help you consolidate these debts,

even at a lesser load,

do you think that I will be anyone

you want to f*** up the ass?

Am I likelier to be f***ed up the ass?

Less likely, I imagine.

Listen to me. Listen to me.

I'm not your doctor.

I'm not your cognitive therapist.

But let me be your uncle.

You have to pay 10% a week.

I know what I have to do.

Where you going to get my money?

I'll get the money.

How much you want?

I am $260,000 all in.

When's the last time

you had money in your hand

to pay a debt and paid it?

Don't f*** with me.

This will be the first time

when you pay, am I right?

That's right.

We're not done.

I need something from you.

What, collateral?

No.

I need you to tell me,

"I need this money because

I am a scumbag gambler.

"I am a scumbag gambler

"who is drowning in his own sh*t.

"That's the kind of man I am, Frank.

"And I want you to loan me,

a dying, suicidal a**hole,

"a lot of money."

That's too much to

remember. Repeat it.

Well, I'll make it simpler for you.

You want this money, you tell me,

"I am not a man."

Say it.

Say, "I am not a man."

Yes?

Did you mean what you said?

About me having talent?

Is there something you don't get about

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