Marty Page #5

MARTY:

She probably got a date by now, Angie.

ANGIE:

Well, let's call her up. What can we

lose?

MARTY:

I didn't like her, Angie. I don't

feel like calling her up.

ANGIE:

Well, what do you feel like doing

tonight?

MARTY:

I don't know. What do you feel like

doing?

ANGIE:

Well, we're back to that, huh? I say

to you, "What do you feel like doing

tonight?" And you say to me, "I don't

know, what do you feel like doing?"

And then we wind up sitting around

your house with a coupla cansa beer,

watching Sid Caesar on television.

Well, I tell you what I feel like

doing. I feel like calling up this

Mary Feeney. She likes you.

MARTY:

What makes you say that?

ANGIE:

I could see she likes you.

MARTY:

Yeah, sure.

ANGIE:

(half-rising in his

seat)

I'll call her up.

MARTY:

You call her up for yourself, Angie.

I don't feel like calling her up.

Angie sits down again. They both return to their papers for

a moment. Then Angie looks up again.

ANGIE:

How about going downa Seventy-Second

Street, see what we can find? Ralph

says you have to beat them off with

clubs.

Marty makes a wry face at the suggestion.

ANGIE:

Boy, you're getting to be a real

drag, you know that?

MARTY:

Angie, I'm thirty-four years old. I

been looking for a girl every Saturday

night of my life. I'm tired of

looking. Everybody's always telling

me to get married. Get married. Get

married. Don't you think I wanna get

married? I wanna get married. They

drive me crazy. Now, I don't wanna

wreck your Saturday night for you,

Angie. You wanna go somewhere, you

go ahead. I don't wanna go.

Rate this script:3.5 / 2 votes