The Cutting Edge Page #4

with my toes.

I don't sit around and count

what's left of my teeth.

Hey, I don't even enjoy

a good tractor-pull.

Limited existence,

but I've gotten used to it.

Life of the party.

Place must be crawling with guys.

As a matter of fact,

I do have a boyfriend.

A rough gig. You keep him

chained up in the basement?

Hale, at the moment, is working

in my father's London office.

He's an M.B.A.

Harvard. You might've heard of it.

They do have a hockey team.

Must be a very smart guy.

First position.

Bet you look good

from a few thousand miles away.

Okay, Douglas.

Come. Shoulders back.

Good, good. Now, chest out.

Yes. Shoulders back. Head higher.

When we're through, can we teach it

how to breathe with its mouth closed?

Don't quit your day job.

Man and woman

together make flower.

Douglas, you are stem.

Katya, you are petal.

Together, we make flower.

Toe pick.

Toe pick.

Toe pick.

Toe pick.

Whoa. Dorsey back to Gretzky,

over to Esposito.

LaFontaine to Dorsey.

Dorsey to Gretzky.

Gretzky to Dorsey.

Dorsey shoots. He scores.

Yes.

If you're bored, why not read?

-What, you mean a book?

-That's a traditionally accepted format.

Is this the beginning

of a conversation here?

I was just simply asking

if you knew how to read.

Yes. Doug can read.

What was the last book you read?

You were in college.

Last thing I read was a letter

canceling my scholarship...

...when I couldn't play anymore.

-Okay. High school.

-I was a hockey player.

The only thing I had to read

was a scoreboard.

-And they graduated you?

-They revered me. I was a god.

What a tragic commentary

on our times.

State championships,

my last game...

...three hundred people carried me

around their shoulders on the ice.

It took the state police

two hours to break it up.

What were you planning on doing

when your gladiating days were over?

You can bet your tights I never thought

I'd work in a freak show like this.

I'm surprised you don't chuck it all

and start your own think tank.

So where'd you matriculate from?

You were in college?

I had tutors.

Excellent tutors.

Would you please find someplace

else to put your clubs?

Man, would I love

to see you play hockey.

Any day.

You can do better than that.

Come on.

Hey.

Come on.

That's one.

Come on, take it.

Cut it out.

That's two.

Stop it, you--

Three.

Four.

You make me ill.

It's not like his nose was perfect.

He's the one who wanted to play.

He's like those morons

who insist you hit them...

...in the stomach

as hard as you can.

I don't know why

I'm explaining this to you.

All I did was play his stupid game.

Next you'll be telling me

how guilty I sound.

Is not guilt.

Well, at least we agree on that.

Rate this script:3.0 / 1 vote