“I’m a bookmaker.”
“Fiction or nonfiction?”
This may sound like gibberish to you… but uh… but I think I’m in a tragedy.
E.J. Fancey Productions have the misfortune to inflict - Down Among The Z Men!
I’ve told you a hundred times. I don’t want to win awards. Give me pictures that end with a kiss and black ink on the books.
First of all, we’re going to use a barn that some actors used last summer and turned it into an outdoor theater. I figured if we all pitched in together - that is, for the scenery and the costumes and everything - it would run us about $287.
During the show I had someone burn newspapers and send it through the vents in the theatre. And well, they freaked out, and 'course the fire Marshall came over and they shut us down for a couple of days.
We burn them to ashes, and then we burn the ashes! That’s our official motto.
State Trooper: What the hell are you driving here?
Del Griffith: We had a small fire last night, but we caught it in the nick of time.
State Trooper: Do you have any idea how fast you were going?
Del Griffith: Funny enough, I was just talking to my friend about that. Our speedometer has melted and as a result it’s very hard to see with any degree of accuracy exactly how fast we were going.
You’re anything but invisible. You’re big. You’re kind of a giant mess. It’s like a candle burning at both ends, but it’s beautiful.
Shut up, just shut up. You had me at “hello”. You had me at “hello”.
I love that you get cold when it’s 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you’re looking at me like I’m nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night.
So, before you leave, can I make you a sandwich? The roast turkey’s really good here.
I’ll have what she’s having.
If you’re a wiseguy, you’ll eat like a king . Prison life wouldn’t be so bad with deliveries of lobster on ice, J&B Scotch, and bottles of white wine. First, the pasta course, then the meat or fish. If you’re lucky, you’ve got a Paulie Cicero to slice the garlic up real thin to liquefy in the pan with olive oil.
Uh, no. I already ate.
But it’s only a wafer thin mint.
If I can only have one food for the rest of my life? That’s easy. Pez. Cherry-flavored Pez. No question about it.
I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti.
Gobble, gobble!
But sloppy seconds ain’t my style.