The Killing Page #3

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You wanna hear this or not?

Do you or not, Sherry?

I can't wait.

Go ahead and thrill me, George.

Well, anyway, like I say,

they were sittin' just in front of me...

and I could hear what they were sayin' -

well, part of it.

They weren't young, exactly,

and they weren't really old.

She was about my age, you said.

Not anymore.

Maybe she was when you started

telling this story, but not now.

Anyway, she was calling him Papa,

and he was calling her Mama.

And the climax to this exciting story?

The moral? The punch line, George?

Forget it, Sherry.

Just thought I'd tell you about it,

but I might have known.

Oh, I know. You want to bet I know?

I'll give you seven-to-five.

Cut it out, will you, Sherry?

I'm tired. I don't feel so good.

You want me to call you Papa, isn't that it,

George? And you wanna call me Mama.

- You know all the answers.

- Go right ahead.

Course, it may be the last word you ever say,

but I'll try to kill you as painlessly as possible.

- I gotta go out tonight.

I don't suppose there's anything for dinner.

Of course there is, darling.

There are all sorts of things.

- We have steak and asparagus and potatoes.

- I don't smell nothin'.

Well, that figures.

'Cause you're too far away from it.

- Too far away from it?

- Certainly. You don't think

I had it all cooked, do you?

It's all down in the shopping center.

Tell me something, would you, Sherry?

Just tell me one thing.

Why did you ever marry me anyway?

George, when a man has to ask his wife that,

well, he just hadn't better, that's all.

Why talk about it?

Maybe it's all to the good in the long run.

After all, if people didn't have headaches,

what would happen to the aspirin industry?

You used to love me.

You said you did, anyway.

I seem to recall you made

a memorable statement too.

Something about hitting it rich

and having an apartment on Park Avenue...

and a different car

for every day of the week.

Not that I really care about such things,

understand...

as long as I have a big, handsome,

intelligent brute like you.

It would make a difference, wouldn't it?

If I had money, I mean.

How would you define money, George?

If you're thinkin' of giving me

your collection of Roosevelt dimes -

I mean big money.

Hundreds of thousands of dollars.

You really don't feel well, do you?

You sure that pain's in your stomach?

I'm gonna have it, Sherry. Hundreds

of thousands, maybe a half a million.

Of course you are, darling.

Did you put the right address on the envelope

when you sent it to the North Pole?

Go ahead and laugh.

Wait and see.

Maybe you won't be laughing so hard

in a few days.

You're really serious. You really think

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