Baked in Brooklyn Page #3

you can say short

of proving she's some sort

of neo-Nazi fembot

that would, you know,

make me think this wasn't

a good idea, you know,

and even then, I'd probably

still go through with it.

- Can I show her the mule?

- Yeah, sure, from time to time.

- Really?

- No, go f*** yourself.

[phone line trilling]

- David, can I speak to you?

- Sure.

What's up?

- In the conference room.

- Sure.

- You know you're not

the only one, right?

- Yeah, I guess.

- You have your company phone?

Slide it down, please.

[exhales sharply]

- Do I get some sort

of severance?

- You'll have to talk

to HR about that.

- And when do I need to,

like, be out by?

- You clear out your desk

by the end of today.

- Oh, and could you just

tell the front desk

that if my mom calls

to just, you know,

tell her that I stepped out

to lunch or something?

- Just for today?

- No, I mean, probably for,

like, six months or so

until I get a new job.

I can email you to let

you know when I do.

[somber orchestral music]

- Have you seen the news?

Everything's crashed, no good.

You are lucky

to have job, David.

- Yeah, no good.

What did you want to do

when you were a kid?

- To be in America only.

- But, like, what did you want

to do when you got here?

- I didn't think like this.

I think to be in America,

you do anything:

airline pilot,

accounting, doctor,

big company CEO,

ball-base player,

cowboy.

- David, when Tata

was a young boy,

dedushka used

to play all the American

Western TV programs for him, eh?

- I thought everyone

in America is cowboy, bandits,

Indians, sheriffs, deputies.

- Did you ever want to be

a bandit?

- Of course.

The only one above the sheriff

is the bandits.

- For most of the story.

[Obama speaking indistinctly

on TV]

David, eat.

- I'm sure

you'll find something else.

- Yeah, thanks.

- Do you know what you want

to do, like, with your life?

- I like sports.

I can do something in sports.

- Are you joking?

I can't tell.

- Yeah, it's a "Seinfeld" thing.

I don't actually like sports,

I guess except tennis

and cycling,

but there's too much drugs

in cycling.

[rock music playing]

- Well, I'm sure

you'll think of something.

- We'll see.

Awesome, thank you.

- I got to go.

- Thanks, dude.

- Bye.

- Bye.

[hip-hop music]

[music stops]

Eliza!

[lively rock music]

[whistling melody]

[phone ringing]

- What's going on?

- Okay, I've got everything

I need. Can we meet this guy?

- No.

- Just text me the info.

Bye.

- Why do you have

to sell weed, though?

- Dealing just seems exciting

and glamorous

and, like, potentially

extremely lucrative.

I'll hopefully make

enough money to live on,

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