A Futile and Stupid Gesture Page #5

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- Hmm.

- Yeah. Hey.

We were in business,

with contracts and everything,

like real grown-ups.

And remember Alex from Harvard?

Beautiful, out of my league?

Well, we got married

and moved in together.

I promised it'd be the two of us

against the world.

It's charming.

It may not be

the palatial estate you grew up in.

You know I don't care about that.

There's no jockeys' quarters

or chocolate covered chandeliers...

There's still no running water.

Toilet's a mess.

What is Henry doing here?

- He lives here.

- We live here.

It's fun, right?

Look, it's not ideal right now,

but hopefully we'll build

the business up over time,

and in five years, Matty has to buy

our share of the magazine, okay?

And then we can each afford

our own apartment.

And don't worry, Henry and I

will wave to you from across the park.

Okay.

Fine.

But can the two of us

at least try to have fun now,

not wait five years to be happy?

Of course. First few months will be

crazy busy, but I'll pencil you in.

Two pencils and a pad of paper.

That's all Matty said we could afford.

Well, then. Please, I insist.

- Oh, thank you.

- You're welcome.

Hey, thank you.

No, thank you.

- No, I think I thanked you first and...

- Well, I think I'm a little more thankful.

- But thank you.

- Okay, well...

Did you do something new

with your hair today?

Can you blame me?

We called her Mary Marshmallow

because of her enormous breasts.

They were like marshmallows.

Hey, what are you up to later?

What! So he's a charming stud,

and I'm a dirty old man? That's ageism!

Hey, man.

Those are the art directors you hired?

They're cool. They know R. Crumb.

So, day one.

- Let's get started, huh?

- Yeah.

Ideas for a magazine.

Fill up a magazine

with words and sentences.

- Humorous. Humorous magazine.

- Preferably funny. Preferably funny.

I'm gonna write down "comedy."

That's good. Let's build on that.

I bet Chris and George have a few ideas.

Maybe we should find some writers

who didn't go to Harvard.

I'm sorry, I don't quite understand.

You mean like a Yalie?

Oh, they were out there.

One of the first guys we brought on board

wrote dirty comic strips

for underground papers

and aspired to be the Antichrist.

I am going to send you

a canister of nerve gas

that will explode upon opening,

you mongoloid twat!

You sent me the wrong records.

You're the Columbia F***ing Record Club!

We had a comedian from England

named Tony Hendra.

Mr. Sullivan would find jokes

about the Tet Offensive.

- Don't you say it.

- Offensive?

Do you know what I find offensive?

Being a traitor to one's generation.

Know what? I am done sucking chuckles

from blue-haired septuagenarians.

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