The Whole Wide World Page #2

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Oh...

Well, everybody gets them.

I still get them.

Yeah, but you sell.

Well, a man's got to

make a living some way.

I was writing when

you knocked on the door.

Didn't you hear me?

Do you always tell a story

as you're writing it?

It's a hell

of a noise, ain't it?

I find

if I talk them out,

hear the words,

the yarn

goes a little smoother.

Oh, so the voice

brings the words to life.

You're

absolutely right.

Absolutely.

Listen, why don't I

take you home now?

We could ride around

a while.

Okay. I'd like that.

Well, let's ride.

All right.

So, how's Brownwood?

Brownwood? I don't know.

I haven't been in months.

You haven't?

No.

I called last week.

Your mother told me

you'd gone to Brownwood.

Really?

Mm-hmm.

I could have

misunderstood her.

That must be it.

I might have been

working right then

and couldn't talk.

Oh, I see.

My folks are pretty good

about me staying at home

all the time.

Just pull right there.

That's it.

Every bastard

in this two-bit town

thinks I ought to be

out working.

That's hard on my family.

Ha. I say to hell

with what they think.

When I'm writing,

I am working.

You know that.

I get to going on a yarn,

I can't be disturbed.

You just misunderstood.

I'm sure I did.

It's a pretty night.

Yes, ma'am.

Things are in

the sear and yellow leaf.

That's a beautiful

harvest moon.

I suppose you're

responsible for it.

By all means. I designed that

specially for you.

Oh, you knew I was coming over?

You're damn right I did.

I was going along

with old Conan,

and suddenly,

you popped out of

the typewriter.

I said to myself,

"Robert Howard,

you big, ugly lummox,

there's a girl who's going

to appreciate your moonlight."

I think you're a poet.

Well, girl,

there's not many women

that can appreciate

a thing like that.

I do.

Well, you're one in a million.

One in a million!

Why don't you tell me

about your

character, Conan?

Conan?

Conan is the damnedest bastard

there ever was.

He's got

a long black mane of hair,

crystal blue eyes.

He's a fighter.

Born on a battlefield.

To him, combat's a way of life.

It's all he's ever known,

all he ever wants to know.

He's no soldier

who was taught to fight.

To him, fighting

[SWORD SLIDING FROM SHEATH]

is an instinct.

It's a part of him,

[SWORD CLANGS]

like his legs, his arms,

his chest, his bull neck.

and believe me,

he don't take it from nobody.

He'll fight man, beast,

devil or god,

and when those women

feel those tree-trunk firm arms

around their waist,

[WOMAN SIGHING]

well, they melt like butter

on a hot skillet.

Aw, hell.

I've been blabbing

all night long.

Hey, girl, why don't you

tell me to shut up?

Let you talk

for a while.

Tell me

about teaching school.

Those kids

ever give you any trouble?

Never.

Not if they know

what's good for them.

I don't take it from nobody...

man, beast, devil,

or student.

I'll bet you don't.

Novalyne, I want to

ask you a question.

If it's none

of my business,

you tell me

pretty damn quick.

Don't you worry. I will.

I want to know

about you and Clyde.

I was wondering if...

well, you might still be

carrying a torch for him.

Clyde happens

to be married,

in case

you haven't heard.

He's a good friend of mine,

and he always will be,

but that's all.

You're not heartbroken?

I've got a strong

heart, Bob.

Well, good.

Now that's settled,

how about tomorrow night?

Well, I don't

have a date

for tomorrow night.

Well, girl,

you've got one now.

I'll be by about 7:00.

Okay.

About that moon...

I'll order another one for you.

Okay. Sure do

appreciate them.

Hey.

Your publisher called

from New York

while you were out

with that girl.

What did he say?

He wanted to know

how your story was going

and if you were going

to meet his deadline.

Did you say I would?

Well, I told him

he was foolish

to think otherwise.

You've never

missed a deadline.

That's right.

Hang on.

They're thinking

of using it

for the February

cover story.

As well they should.

Oh, son, I hope I did

the right thing.

Mr. Wright wanted to know

if it was okay to give

out your address

to a Mr. Lovecraft?

He said that he was

a big fan of yours

and wanted to write you.

H.P. Lovecraft?

Yes, I believe

that was his name.

The gentleman was from

Rhode Island.

Well, Jesus, yes.

Did you say yes?

Oh, yes.

Of course I said yes.

Hey, you'd better

hurry up.

He'll be here

any second.

Calm down. He can wait.

A girl has to look her best

on a first date.

[KNOCKING]

He's here.

Oh...

How do I look?

Just beautiful.

Thanks.

Have a good time.

I will, I hope.

Oh, he's fine.

He's working hard

as usual.

Oh, he's

a great doctor.

Pardon me.

Well, I didn't know.

I at least thought you'd have on

a coat or a tie.

Well, I got on

a clean white shirt, by God.

I brought this for you.

You said you wanted to

read some of my stuff.

I brought this.

It's called

"The Devil in Iron."

Thank you.

I sure do want to read it.

Well, okay, there it is.

I'm sorry I didn't get

all dressed up.

I didn't think

we'd go to a show or anything.

I just thought

we'd drive around a while

and I'd shoot my mouth off

some more.

If there's one thing

I'm good at,

that's driving and blabbing.

When I got a pretty girl

with me,

it makes it that much better.

What's that story about,

the one you gave me?

"The Devil in Iron"?

Yeah.

Well, what do you think

it's about?

I don't know.

A devil made of iron?

Bullseye.

Evil lord baits a trap for Conan

on this desolate island.

Guess what

the bait is.

A pretty girl.

You read this yarn before, girl?

No.

Swear I didn't.

Conan, he finds

this fantastic city

which has been mysteriously

rebuilt overnight.

Now, he creeps in...

No, don't tell me.

I want to read it.

It sounds exciting.

Excitement's my specialty.

Your specialty, huh?

Uh-huh.

That's right.

Excitement and adventure.

That's what

the readers want.

That's what

I give them.

What kind of stories

you been writing lately?

Adventure? Romance?

Teaching school?

I write down

conversations that I hear

in my journal

for practice.

Sometimes

I try a confession.

You got a lot to confess?

It depends whether

I write about what I do

or what I think

about doing.

No luck, though.

It still all gets

sent back.

Ahem.

Thank you.

What was your

last one about?

It's a little hard

to explain.

It was called,

"I Gave my Daughter Movie Fame."

What did you say?

It's for the confessions.

Aren't those stories

a little bizarre?

What's it called?

"I Gave my Daughter Movie Fame."

Really?

What's it about?

[LAUGHING]

I'm not going to tell you

until you stop laughing at me.

A woman has

an illegitimate child,

a daughter.

The child is adopted by her

aunt,

but the mother

can't give her up,

so she keeps helping her

in secret, and...

What?

Eventually, she helps her

become a movie star.

[LAUGHING]

And very famous.

Stop laughing.

It's not that silly, is it?

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