Barrymore Page #2

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had her by the throat,

then he ran off screaming

into the night, screaming.

I chased him for twenty blocks.

I didn't give a

sh*t how big he was.

I was going to kill that

raving sonuvabitch.

Is that my inheritance?

Scares the hell out of me.

What's going on?

That you sir? Mr. Barrymore?

Frank.

Let me know

when you want to

start running your lines.

I'm all set up and ready to go.

Well! Mr. Efficiency

has finally turned up.

Hello, Frank.

Hello, sir.

How've you been?

Fine, sir.

Keeping busy?

Yes.

That's our Frank.

Traffic's bad, huh?

I took the train, sir.

Still living in Yonkers?

Yes.

With your mother?

Yes.

How is she?

So-so.

What?

So-so.

Oh well that's life.

Dear old Frank.

I have but to discreetly

cradle my auditory orifice,

lean artfully in his

direction, murmur, "Line?"

And the forgotten words

waft their way toward my

eagerly awaiting ear,

unbeknownst to the

enchanted audience.

Anytime, Mr. Barrymore.

I have very poor and

unhappy brains for

I could well

wish courtesy would invent

some other custom

of entertainment.

Wait a minute, sir.

Hmm?

That's not from Richard.

Oh?

How perceptive of you, Frank.

And what is it from then?

Othello.

Right as usual

Frank... Pedantic prick.

Save me from him.

A horse! A horse!

My kingdom for a horse!

Mr. Barrymore, aren't we

taking it from the beginning?

Presumably

That's the end

of the play.

Tedious boy.

All right, Frank.

Let us proceed

with the libretto.

Richard the Third

- Act one, scene one.

Forgive for a moment

I just eh...

Well, I'll just still

myself.

Right.

Start me off.

Now...

Now's a good

a time as any.

No. "Now" is the first word.

Oh.

Now is the...

Now is the... what?

Now is the what?

Now is the the

winter of...

Now is the winter of what?

...Our discontent.

Now is

the winter of our discontent...

That's what I said!

Don't you listen, schmuck?

I listen!

Frank, don't prompt

me unless I ask.

If I ever need one, I will

just say, "Line".

Line.

Made glorious summer

Line.

By this sun of York...

Line.

And all the clouds that

lour'd upon our house

In the deep bosom of

the ocean buried.

God, that was a killer.

Let's take a break.

You've only

done four lines.

Oh shut up, Frank.

Please Mr. Barrymore,

we must be serious.

All right, Simon Legree.

What's next?

Now are our brows...

Now are our brows...

You know I can

recite two entire

plays by Shakespeare.

I know you've heard that

when I made pictures,

I use blackboards

once in a while, placed

in strategic positions.

Bound with victorious

wreathes...

Well, it's true!

What the hell's

wrong with that?

Bound with victorious

wreath es...

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