GK: . . .after this message from POEM, the Professional Organization of English Majors. New York is a city of beautiful elegant women (HIGH HEELS ON SIDEWALK) walking down the street past men in hard hats who show their appreciation.
FN: Oh baby. Oh look up here. Wooooo. (HE GRUNTS, HE BARKS, HE HOWLS) Hey, whatcha doing tonight, babe??? Need somebody to take off your sheetrock? WHISTLES)
GK: But he doesn't stand a chance, compared to the man who runs the hot pretzel stand on the corner.
TR: Your womanhood exerts a gravitational pull and I am only a small moon drawn into orbit around you for the thousand years that are the ten seconds it takes you to round the corner and disappear into the subway, gone, as if the color blue no longer exists or the letter M or the key of G. (FOOTSTEPS STOP)
SS: You're sweet.
TR: You're a planet.
SS: I could go for a man with a metaphor.
TR: You got a nice figure of speech yourself.
SS: Are those pretzels.....hot? Really hot?
TR: Let me be your pretzel.
SS: Oh wow.
FN: Curses! Me, a manly man, beat out by that gink. Look at her, making goo-goo eyes at him. What's he got that I ain't got?
GK: He has a college degree......with a major in English. A message from the Professional Organization of English majors.