Ace in the Hole

her, she'd be very flattered.

And as for drinking,

do you drink a lot?

Not a lot. Just frequently.

We have a shop rule here,

no liquor on the premises.

- How about smoking?

- Of course.

And I pay $60 a week in this shop.

I'll take it.

Where's my desk?

The one by the door. You may

be out of here by Saturday.

The sooner the better.

Thanks, Geronimo. Take these

over to the engraver's.

What's this mess?

They haven't got any

chopped chicken livers.

I brought you some chicken tacos.

Chicken tacos?

They're not gonna chop the

livers any more for you.

Nobody else will buy them.

And no more garlic pickles.

When the history of this

sun-baked Siberia is written,

these shameful words

will live in infamy.

"No chopped chicken liver."

"No garlic pickles."

No Lindy's. No Madison

Square Garden.

No Yogi Berra.

What do you know about

Yogi Berra, Miss Deverich?

- I beg your pardon?

- Yogi Berra!

Yogi? Why, it's a sort

of religion, isn't it?

You bet it is. A belief

in the New York Yankees.

You know what's wrong with

New Mexico, Mr Wendel?

Too much outdoors.

Give me those eight spindly trees in

front of Rockefeller Center any day.

That's enough outdoors for me.

No subways smelling sweet-sour.

What do you use for

noise around here?

No beautiful roar from

eight million ants,

fighting, cursing, loving.

No shows. No South Pacific.

No chic little dames

across a crowded bar.

And worst of all, Herbie,

no 80th floor to jump from

when you feel like it.

Is this one of your

long-playing records, Chuck?

Let's hear the other side.

All right. I'll play it for you.

When I came here, I thought this was

gonna be a 30-day stretch, maybe 60.

Now it's a year.

It looks like a life sentence.

Where is it? Where's the loaf

of bread with a file in it?

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