Serving Sara Page #4

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That's what|they all say.

But I'm happily married.

Not anymore.

Could I get that coffee|to go, uh...?

This is Ray.|Who the hell is this?

Hey, Ray, I'll tell you|who the hell this is.

It's Joe,|so why don't you put

that doughnut down for a second|and listen to me.

Guess who I just served.

Sara Moore. That's right.

So get your checkbook out.

And since you took me off|this gig

and I had to do it|on my own time

you better pay me double, okay?

Say good night, sweet prince.

Oh, no.

Look, if you want to use|the phone, just ask.

You served Fat Charlie

now Fat Charlie serves you.

And I'll say we served|him pretty good, too.

So, Brooklyn's in the house?

Hey!

Oh, my... Sara!

Sara, oh, my God.

You have got to see this.

What?

I don't fit in, huh?

Huh? How about this?

Now do I fit in?

How does that fit, huh?

I'm glad.

Yo, Aldo, you know, I've been|doing some thinking lately.

I'm getting kind of|tired of carpooling.

How about you?

Yeah, I could use|a little room myself.

You don't mind|there, Petey.

Oh, there's a car|right here.

I could just take this car, no?

Why not?

You're not taking my car.|That was nothing.

Come on!

Whoa!

Is that all you got...?

Get over here!

Hey, what are you,|some kind of machinist?

Are you trying to say|"masochist"?

What a meathead!

Whoa!

Hold on. Hold on a second.

Your diaper's loose.

That's it?!

That's all you girls got?!

That was nothing!

Nothing!

Baby's going to take nappy.

Oh!

Sorry.

Wretched bag.

Well, well, there is a God.

Actually, it was two Italians.

Do you have any feelings?

Do you have any shred|of humanity or compassion?

Well, little sick dogs pull|at my heartstrings

but certainly not trophy wives|from Australia.

Australia?

Look, first of all,|I'm English, you twit.

And second of all, we've had|our ups and downs

but I stuck it out

and trophy wives|don't do that.

Do you know what?

The guy on the phone was right.

You are an a**hole.

Hey, I was just doing my jo...

What guy on the phone?

The guy that called up|to my apartment

to say you were on your way up|with those lovely papers.

Somebody tipped you off?

Who?

Yeah, like I know everyone

in New York|with a Brooklyn accent.

Tony.

It's got to be Tony.

The son of a b*tch.

He's been tipping off my marks|for two months.

That's why|it's been so hard.

Well, my heart bleeds for you.

I'm going to kill|that son of a b*tch!

Mind your own business,|pork chop.

Goddamn monkeys.

Hey, Chico

make it cooler, cooler.

Culo. Tu quieres culo?

Yo te doy culo!

Not louder. Cooler!

Este gringo me molesta...

No gringo. Italiano.

Mambo Italiano.

No mambo Italiano.

Mambo King, Armand Assante.

- Mambo King soy yo.|- Hey, Chico

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