D.O.A. Page #3

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Mm-mmm.

Well, then what's the A for?

- Ambitious?

- I don't believe you didn't read it.

What, were you uptight that

one of your students might actually

produce something of quality?

No. I was uptight about having

to wade through 400 pages...

of flatulent student fiiction.

Now I don't have to.

Oh, God.

Now I do have to.

Not necessarily sober, though.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

Less egg, Gail, more nog.

Who's this card from?

Uncle Charlie.

- Mine or yours?

- It's yours.

- I thought he was dead.

- No. The dead one's mine.

- Student suicide on campus today.

- I left that box of records

of yours by the door.

We, uh, mailing out

joint Christmas cards this year?

- I already sent mine out.

- Guess not.

Oh, I forgot.

I've got a gift for you.

Oh, God, Dex. Why?

Well, don't worry.

It's nothing much.

Hot date? Didn't think you'd dress

like that to trim a tree.

Anybody I know?

- Stop sounding like a husband.

- Well, I'm sorry.

I thought I still was one.

Thank you.

Well, it's a little nicer than

what I got you, I'm afraid.

Couldn't you have thought

of something more pleasant?

A lump of coal, perhaps?

Come on.

'Tis the season to be jolly.

Uh, you know, this thing would be

a lot easier to take

if only you'd act a little hurt.

I hurt, Dex. And I think

you know how long I've hurt.

Why? What have I done?

Hmm? Have I cheated on you?

I mean, I'm probably

the only professor on campus

who's not screwing a sophomore.

Maybe you oughta be. At least it'd be

a sign of life, a longing for something.

Okay, Gail, I tell you what.

You wait here.

I'm gonna go out and fiind myself a coed

for a quickie. I'll be right back.

- Can we resume our marriage?

- This hasn't been a marriage

in four years, Dex.

It's funny how that kind of coincides

with the publication of my last novel.

So that's my great sin, huh?

I'm not prolifiic enough.

Perhaps you should've married

Harold Robbins.

- One for the road, Dex?

- Subtle hint to exit?

No. I'm exiting.

Make yourself at home.

You are, after all.

- Because I stopped writing?

- Because you stopped caring.

Goddam it, Gail, don't run out on me!

What did I do to you?

You did it to yourself.

Oh, God, Dex.

You were so good,

and you just gave up on everything

that mattered to you, including me.

You know, marriage can't always be

as hot as the honeymoon.

There's ups and downs.

- Two people,

when they live together, they--

- You know, you are so smart...

and you don't have the faintest idea

what I'm talking about, do you?

The fact that making love became

a matter of just going through

the motions was hard enough.

But I could take it,

if you'd have only talked to me.

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