Oscar Page #5

I'm a grown woman now.

- So I heard.

- What's that supposed to mean?

Don't be coy with me!

I know all about your boyfriend.

Or should I say lover?

- You know?

- Yes.

And you've brought nothing

but shame to this family.

Daddy, you have to realize

I'm not a little girl any more.

Look.

Put that away!

I'm your father!

Say, how'd you fiInd out

about us, anyway?

The mug was just here

askin' me for your hand in marriage.

- What are you cryin' for?

- Because I'm so happy.

- I thought he left me for good.

- You should be so lucky.

- Don't say that about the man I'm gonna marry!

- You're not gonna marry that monkey!

You're gonna marry the man I picked out

for you- Bruce Underwood III.

I don't wanna marry Bruce Underwood.

He's a snob, and he's got pimples.

- A couple of dates with you, and that'll clear up.

- Go ahead, insult me.

Your mother and I send you

to the fiInest Catholic schools.

And look at you!

A disgrace.

You look like you just stepped off

the runway at Minsky's.

I'm a modern '30s woman.

It's the music

you kids listen to today.

Bing Crosby, Cab Calloway!

Don't think I haven't heard the lyrics

to "Minnie the Moocher."

Oh, I am so stifled in this house.

I wanna swim the English Channel.

I wanna go shopping in Paris.

I wanna lay on the beach

in Honolulu.

Do whatever you want!

Just don't leave this room.

The Finuccis is here.

Connie, watch this door.

She's not goin' nowhere.

Finuccis.

- Is that my suit?

- It's not just a suit.

- It's a Finucci.

- Took you long enough.

You want it fast or you want it good?

We no rush. You no rush Michelangelo.

You no rush Leonardo.

- You no rush a Finucci.

- That's my speech.

Who say it's your speech?

Enough!

Move it into the library.

Stairs.

Oh, look at all of the books.

I never see so many.

Yeah, yeah. Reading's my passion.

Signor Provolone,

this is our last house call.

'Cause now we famous.

- Famous?

- Oh, sure.

One of our suits, she make

a big spread in the Herald Tribune.

Show him the picture.

Show him the picture.

Nice piece of work.

Suit looks good too.

His widow, she want a new suit

to bury him.

I say, when he pay

for the filrst, he get another.

Nice colour, huh?

Feel this. This nice.

Like a baby's behind.

Well, let's see if it filts.

I got till noon to look like a banker.

Oh, we make you look like a banker.

Take off your pants.

Four million unemployed. It's enough to

break your heart, isn't it, gentlemen?

Yes. We could be forced to lower

our interest rates once again.

Damn shame.

One can't even walk

from the offilce to the club...

without being pestered

by some homeless beggar.

Excuse me.

I meant "forgotten man."

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