Two Much Page #4

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Mmm.

Yeah. One in a million.

A real lifesaver.

- I-I owe you big time.

- No.

But, you know,

I was thinking...

"Betty is just too good

for me."

It's like a voice

that says...

"Art, you don't

deserve her."

- It... um...

- What are you saying?

A-All I am saying...

is... is just... wow.

Two weeks. Is that long enough?

I mean, marriage.

Huge in the decision

department, right? Huh?

- What the hell did you do to my sister?

- Nothing, nothing.

- l...

- Don't you hurt her.

All I said to her was

that we were moving a little too fast.

I thought guys like you

always moved too fast.

If you're gonna play the stud,

at least have the common decency...

to do it well

and make her happy.

Betty...

I'm sorry.

- I really didn't mean to upset you.

- Oh, darling, I'm strong.

I spoke to Dr. Huffeyer...

and he said that as long as

I externalize my feelings...

without inhibition...

even my anger...

then everything is fine.

So I'm fine.

And I don't want you

to feel that you can't be...

completely honest with me...

because marriage needs to be based

on openness and trust...

as well as basic

sexual compatibility.

Everything is fine.

- Are you sure?

- Yeah.

Everything is fantastic.

- Good.

- Except for your sister.

Uh... I don't think

she's too crazy about me.

- Well, that's because you're not her type.

- Huh?

I mean, she teaches modern

art at the university, for God's sake.

She goes for those

quasi-intellectual types...

with the glasses

and the frown lines...

and Siberian movies.

Don't. I don't want

to hear it anymore.

You're not gonna leave her.

She knows it.

You know it.

And finally,

I know it.

Bye.

- What's this?

- Mrs. Doyle returned it.

What kind of country

is this...

where people don't even

respect the last wishes of the dead?

Shall I read you the mail or throw it

directly into the wastebasket?

You should only read

love letters.

But they are love letters.

Here's a love letter

from the bank...

and one from the

insurance company...

and, ooh,

very romantic.

A letter

from your optician...

accompanied, of course,

by the bill for your last contacts.

Bills, bills, bills.

Is that all people

ever think about?

What if I don't pay? What are

they gonna do, gouge my eyes out?

I wouldn't give them

any ideas.

Pay the man.

Is Mr. Dodge in?

Do me a favor and tell my brother Arthur

to stop playing hide-and-seek with me.

Tell him I need to

speak to him tonight, you understand?

- Uh, Mr. Dodge.

- You are looking for my brother too?

If you see him before I do,

please tell him I am in town.

Tell him I am in town.

Tell him...

Bart is in town.

Art Dodge, please.

Someone who sounds like Art

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