A New Kind of Love Page #2

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of Theatrical Stage Employees,

am non-cancelable.

Modern living.

lt's ruining everything.

lt used to be fun to fire people.

Now it takes a ruling

of the Supreme Court.

So l missed the deadline

on my column.

l'm not the first guy or the last.

And besides, it's your fault,

Mr. Chalmers.

My fault?

Remember that ''Welcome

to Los Angeles'' party--

- Yes, l remember that--

- At your house?

- Yes.

- That's where l met that blond.

Tell you the truth,

l don't even know her name.

lt's Mrs. Chalmers.

Oh, boy...

l-- l don't know what to say.

Small world.

lsn't it?

But that's my problem.

Steve, l can't figure you out.

First it was that ambassador's

wife in Washington.

Then the girlfriend

of the Russian consul.

- What a dog.

- And now...

How a writer with your intellectual

capacity can waste his whole--

There are a lot of things l don't

wanna waste, Mr. Chalmers.

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may

That's what Robert Herrick said.

Pretty fair poet.

And you know about Baudelaire.

He wrote his best work

in the boudoir with a quill pen

on the naked...

...back of his mistress.

Now, what would you have me use

for inspiration? An electric typewriter?

l don't care what you use,

as long as l'm not married to it.

But you do need something.

ln addition to everything else, your

columns have been getting lousy.

- Thank you.

- All right.

Due to the grace of your lawyer,

l can't fire you.

But one thing l can do:

l can send you

as far away from my wife as possible.

Now, you get back to New York

and straighten out your affairs...

Business.

Because next Wednesday,

you're leaving for our office in Paris.

Paris?

Where you'll probably,

l hope, kill yourself.

Oh, yeah, but what

a wonderful way to go.

Oh, listen, about your wife,

l'm really sorry.

lf there's anything l can do...

You've done it.

Yeah, l guess so.

Welcome aboard

Scandinavian Airlines Flight 45,

from New York to Paris.

We are now serving snacks,

and dinner will be along shortly.

''As your magic-carpet jet speeds you

to romantic la belle France--''

That's pronounced ''France.''

''The land that was made for love.''

Okay, melding a round house,

that's 240, makes 500.

- You owe me another ten bucks.

- La belle France,

the land that was made for pinochle.

Your deal, Sam.

This time l'll knock your brains out.

You know, if l had a son,

he would've been just like her.

But he'd have combed his hair.

Okay, your lead.

This time you'll lose your shirt.

ls that so? l'll murder you.

l'll marbleize you.

You know, l got an idea. lf Lindbergh

could have looked into the future,

that lonely dawn in 1 92 7...

...he'd have said the hell with it.

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