Breakfast at Tiffany's Page #4

Okay. Positive statement.

Ringing affirmative.

I'm a writer.

The only writer I've ever been out with

is Benny Shacklett.

He's written an awful lot

of television stuff, but quel rat.

Tell me, are you a real writer?

I mean, does anybody buy

what you write or publish it or anything?

They bought what's in that box.

Yours?

All these books?

Well, there's just the one book.

Twelve copies of it.

"Nine Lives by Paul Varjak."

They're stories.

Nine of them.

Tell me one.

They're not the kind of stories

you can really tell.

Too dirty?

Yeah, I suppose they're dirty, too,

but only incidentally.

Mainly they're angry, sensitive,

intensely felt

and that dirtiest of all dirty words,

promising.

Or so said The Times Book Review,

October 1st, 1956.

-1956?

-That's right.

I suppose this is kind of a ratty question,

but what have you written lately?

Lately I've been working on a novel.

-Lately, since 1956?

-Well, a novel takes a long time.

-I want to get it exactly right.

-So no more stories.

Well, the idea is

I'm supposed to not fritter

my talent away on little things.

I'm supposed to be saving it

for the big one.

Tell me, do you write every day?

Sure.

-Today?

-Sure.

-It's a beautiful typewriter.

-Of course.

It writes nothing but sensitive,

intensely felt, promising prose.

But there's no ribbon in it.

-There isn't?

-No.

Oh.

You know, something you said

this morning has been

bothering me all day.

What's that?

Do they really give you $50

whenever you go to the powder room?

Of course.

You must do very well.

I'm trying to save,

but I'm not very good at it.

You know,

you do look a lot like my brother Fred.

I haven't seen him, of course,

since I was 14. That's when I left home.

And he was already 6'2".

I guess it must have been

the peanut butter that did it.

Everybody thought he was dotty the way

he gorged himself on peanut butter.

But he wasn't dotty.

Just sweet and vague and terribly slow.

Poor Fred. He's in the army now.

It's really the best place for him

until I can get enough money saved.

-And then?

-And then Fred and I...

I went to Mexico once.

It's a wonderful place for raising horses.

I saw one place near the sea that...

Fred's very good with horses.

But even land in Mexico

costs something.

And no matter what I do,

there never seems to be more than

a couple of hundred dollars in the bank.

It can't be 4:
30.

It just can't.

Do you mind if I just get in with you

for a minute?

It's all right. Really, it is.

We're friends, that's all.

We are friends, aren't we?

Sure.

Okay.

Let's don't say another word.

Let's just go to sleep.

Where are you, Fred?

Because it's cold.

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