Original subtitles

Boy, I'm gonna have a vacation if I have to kill a few guys.

Martin, you're not gonna believe it.

Rumor has it that our bonuses aren't gonna be $5,000.

They're gonna be $10,000.

Oh, my God.

This is going to be the grandest vacation you've ever had.

- Who told you that? - Well, someone said it.

- So it must be true. - It better be.

We deserve at least $10,000. I mean, we do all the work.

Gibby sits around on his big, fat ass, that fucking douchebag.

Martin, ixnay on the ouchebag-day.

What?

What's he doing? Would you get up?

Martin, you're fired.

Gibby, when I say "douchebag," I want you to know I mean that

in the most April Fresh sense of the word.

Don't strain yourself, Marty. If I need someone to climb up my exhaust pipe,

I'll call Carter here.

Standing by, sir.

Anywho, I understand there's been some loose frabberjabber about bonuses.

So, to clear things up, it gives me great pleasure

to announce that this year's bonus will be $15,000.

That's very generous of you, Gibby.

No, it's not.

You see, there's only one bonus.

It goes to the editor, who brings me the book

most likely to put Whitestone back in the black

without us having to juggle the ledgers again.

What about the rest of us? We get nothing?

You should be so lucky. No.

No, you see, the $15,000 will come out

of the loser's salaries, $5,000 apiece.

It's my own theory of economics, really.

Not so much "trickle down" as "piss upon."

Gibby, there are some companies where the bonuses are actually paid by management.

So I've heard, but wisely I've invested

most of our revenues in my ski chalet in the Alps.

Well, no use standing around.

You've all got infighting and backstabbing to attend to.

- I mean-- - Unbelievable.

Yes, yes, I know-- most people wear belts,

but that doesn't mean they want to read a 1200-page history of them.

Yes, well, I don't understand.

When I called you on the phone, you were dying to meet me.

- What did I do wrong? - Nothing. Nothing.

It's just that over the phone, I thought you were a different Norman Mailer.

I keep hearing about this guy. Who the hell is he?

And why doesn't he stay off my turf?

- Thank you. - You're welcome.

Toby, I want you to confirm my three o'clock,

and make sure it's with the real Bob Vila.

Don't worry about it, real or not,

he called ten minutes ago to cancel.

Great. Great! Now I have nothing.

Damn it! What am I gonna do?

If you want to keep busy, maybe you can help me with this.

"Single blonde female, 18-plus,

who prefers Garfield to Heathcliff,

furry things to fuzzy things,

Ricki Lake to Vicki Lawrence,

and Yahtzee to Triple Yahtzee,

seeks man."

What the hell is that?

My personal ad. You like it?

Toby, why are you doing this now?

I'm not getting any younger. I read an article in Cosmo.

A woman my age has a better chance

of falling down an elevator shaft than finding a husband.

No, Toby, why are you doing this now-now?

We have a lot of work to do.

When am I supposed to do it, on my free time?

Oh, come on! Come on! Does anybody have anything?

Other than a spastic colon?

And the urge to see Gibby cower under his desk

as I stroll the halls with a deer rifle?

No.

- What have you got, Carter? - Nothing!

I-- I don't have anything!

Oh! Excuse me.

Bachelor number two.

We're stranded on a desert island.

A ship comes to rescue us. What do you do?

I show them the spring line of attractive cruise wear

my brother and I manufacture, which, by the way,

you would look wonderful in.

Toby, what's going on here?

I'm chasing a rainbow Martin, so scram.

Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me.

Bachelor number one.

Our first kiss.

Paint me a picture, but with words.

We're at the craps table in Monte Carlo.

I need a 10 the hard way.

You blow on my dice,

letting your lips graze against my fingertips.

I toss the dice over my shoulder

and pull your hungry mouth toward mine, searching.

Searching for the meaning of life.

The crowd roars as the hard 10 comes up.

And I find that meaning

in your very soul.

Beat it.

Oh, my God! You're--

You're Maddox March.

Guilty as charged.

You know him?

Only by reputation.

You have a reputation?

Wait, you didn't mention that in your letter.

This is Maddox March.

Martin Tupper.

I'm your biggest fan. I've read all your books.

I was there when you won the National Book Award.

Oh, yeah, yeah, that-- I lost that trophy in a skins game

to Chi Chi Rodriguez.

Wow! I would kill to do a book with you.

I'm not here on business, slim.

I'm here to meet my...

queen of hearts.

Absolutely. Sorry to, uh, to interrupt.

So, Maddox.

Toby, have you seen that issue of the Publishers Monthly

with my picture on the cover?

Never mind, never mind, it's right next to my

"Editor of the Year" plaque.

For God's sake, Martin,

I've had pink eye went away faster than you.

How about I take you away from here

and wet your whistle?

Okay, but you gotta buy me a drink first.

Uh, Maddox, if you want to talk book deal,

I'll be right here, you know, editing away.

That's-- that's what I do best--

I was making about 20 grand a week gambling at St. Croix,

but there's only so many times you can hear the word "Deo"

without wanting to shove a steel drum up someone's behind,

so I moved to Europe.

Wow! Europe?

Is it really as old as they say?

Pardonnez-moi, I'll get that.

Why don't you pour us some Harvey's Bristol Cream?

Ah, oui, oui, madame.

- Or mademoiselle. Pardonnez-moi. - Oh, monsieur.

Hello. Hi, Toby, this is Martin.

I was just calling to see how your date went.

It didn't went, it's still going.

Great! Great.

Uh, did, uh-- Did Maddox say anything about me?

Or doing a book? Or doing a book with me?

Martin, quit bugging me.

I'm trying to get nature to take its course here.

And that's my cousin Louis before they took him away for manslaughter.

And that's my ma with her third husband Lance.

He was dead for a while, but now he's just a vegetable.

- Am I boring you? - No, no, no, you kidding?

I want to know everything there is to know about you.

Wow!

And that's, uh, Alan Ludden, my cat at the time.

And that's my Schwinn.

And that's my... flank.

Why don't we, uh, take this to the likes of my bedroom?

Or not.

Marty?

Whose dust is that you're munching on? Carter's?

Because I hear he's about to land

the memoirs of Ronald Reagan's personal shopper.

It's the one I pointed out to you in the window.

What would you say if I told you that Maddox March

is gonna be doing his next book right here with me.

I'd say how would you like your payment?

Cash, check, or a Thai girl who'll clean your entire apartment with her own spit?

I'm close, Gibby. Very, very close.

Well, good hunting, Marty.

Let me know when you've got him strapped to your fender.

♪ Camptown ladies Sing this song ♪

♪ Something, something ♪

Good morning, Toby.

What a weekend, Martin.

- I think I'm in love. - Ooh.

Maddox took me to shows and high life,

and the sex...

He opened me up in ways

I didn't even dream were possible.

It's terrific. Toby, look, I have a great idea.

Why don't you get Maddox to do his next book right here at Whitestone?

That way you can see him at work too.

Nah, you know that old saying, "Never mix books with pleasure."

Well, there's another old saying-- "You can't go on vacation without money."

Now, come on, Toby, I need that bonus.

Are you telling me you care more about your vacation than my happiness?

No. No, don't be silly.

Look, this vacation will make me very happy.

A happy boss is a happy secretary,

so, uh, actually, I'm just doing it for you.

Oh, geez, Martin, how stupid do you think I am?

- Incredibly. - By the way, can I leave early today?

Maddox is coming over for dinner to meet the family.

Well, of course, of course. No problem, really. Anything you want.

- See you. - But you're leaving now?

Yeah, I gotta meet my mother at Loehmann's.

She wants to get a new dress

before the crippled security guard goes off duty.

So, Maddox, you ever been in the big house?

Not as of yet, no.

What are you, some kind of fairy?

Maddox is a big-time author.

They said in an old magazine he was the voice of his generation.

Really? You know who I like?

Vic Damone. He's got a throat like velvet.

So, Maddox, how much money you got?

Well, I was never much of a saver.

No, on you.

See, I like a man who carries a lot of cash.

I don't know, maybe 600?

Can I have it?

- Ma, you're gonna scare him off. - No, impossible.

You know, Mrs. Pedalbee...

the first time I saw your daughter,

it was as if every twist and turn

of my crazy, stupid life suddenly made sense.

Because all of that brought me to that point,

to this woman.

It was the death of regret.

Whoa, I'm getting a little feminine here.

Wait a minute, you sure you're not a cop, huh?

You smell like a cop.

No, Ma, it's the chicken pot pies.

Toby, it's your stupid, idiot boss.

What the hell are you doing here?

Toby, you left this at the office.

They're predicting a 20% chance of rain,

and I said, "That's just too big a chance to take."

So, uh, here you go.

Maddox, Maddox, it's good to see you.

Martin, don't make me have your legs broken.

So, Maddox, you working on anything right now?

I'm working on finding the john.

Hey, I can show you where that is.

Wait a sec!

Uh, you know, I was rereading Barefoot in Athens last night,

and-- and you really captured--

All clear.

Well, what are you gonna do? Hold it for me?

If that's what it takes to get you to do a book with me, yes.

All right, give me one good reason why I should work with you.

- Well, because... - Frankly, I'm desperate.

...it'll be really great for my career.

I admire your candor, slim.

You're a putz, but at least you're not shy about it.

All right, so how's about a little friendly game of chance?

What do you mean?

One cut of the cards. You win, you get my new book.

- Fine. - I win, you get the hell out of here.

And...

you kiss Toby's mother goodbye

on the mouth with tongue, eyes open.

You're on.

This is my lucky day.

Well, I guess, I'll be going now.

Good night, Toby. Gina.

Martin.

- The book is yours. - What?

You're a man of your word, Martin, I like that.

Martin, what's your hurry?

I've got some candy pants in the refrigerator.

No, thank you. I just lost my appetite.

Ooh, ooh, baby.

I thought I killed that guy once.

It must have been someone else.

Hello, ladies. Hey, hey, how you doing?

Hey, [indistinct].

- Morning, Toby. - Which of these sounds better?

Toby March, Mrs. Maddox March,

Mrs. Toby Pedalbee-March,

or Mrs. Serena Pedalbee-March?

Serena?

Well, if I got to pay 50 bucks to change my name,

I might as well get my money's worth.

Did Maddox propose to you?

No, not yet, but I hear wedding bells in my head.

I don't hear a thing.

Well, hey, you're happy,

he's happy, I'm happy, huh?

Hey, Maddox, do you have pages for me?

Indeed he does.

They are sharper than a virgin's fingernails.

Congratulations, Marty.

The editor's incentive program has a winner.

Bon voyage! Bon voyage!

Well, thank you, Gibby.

No, no. Thank you.

This book's gonna make so much money,

I'll be able to buy that lactating Venus fountain I've been ogling.

Listen to this.

"Tabby was four feet 11 inches of absurdity.

A character dreamed up by Dr. Seuss and Edgar Allan Poe

after a bottle of cheap grappa.

Her hair looked like day-old cotton candy.

Only God knew what color it really was,

and he couldn't bring himself to discuss it."

He reminds me of somebody I know.

Look at that.

"Her mother was a used-up mob barker

who'd been chewing the same piece of Doublemint since the Korean War.

Her sister would fuck a German shepherd

if it would buy her dinner."

That's true.

Do you realize who this is about?

Oh, yeah, it's about Toby and her family of bridge dwellers. What's the problem?

How could you write this about the woman you love?

- I didn't. I wrote it about Toby. - Huh?

You see, Martin, I believe things ring truer

when they're actually true.

So I find an interesting life, I insinuate myself into it,

and then write what I hear.

That's not writing that's stenography!

What-- This is gonna kill her.

Well, someone has to sacrifice for the sake of art.

When I wrote Rabbit Punch,

I fought 18 amateur bouts, took thousands of blows to my head.

This is not my original ear, you know.

Well, this time around, Toby had to hit the canvas.

Lucky for her, she didn't have far to fall.

With every ounce of decency in me, I object!

Wait. Wait. Now let's-- let's discuss this.

There's nothing to discuss.

You get the rest of the book by the end of the month.

Hey, Maddox, come help me handicap the feature at Aqueduct.

I'll hold it down, and you could break its legs.

You get it?

Yeah, I'll be right there, junebug.

Oh, man.

With dialogue like that,

I'll be done by the end of the week.

Don't worry about it, Marty.

First betrayal's the only remotely difficult one.

Well done, rat boy. See you in hell.

Well, do something. Don't just stand there like a petrified forest.

Here it is, slim. The last chapters.

I think you'll enjoy the scene where Tabby sings "Delta Dawn" at karaoke night.

I've been thinking a lot about the book,

and I feel much better about it, really.

Good. I'm glad you came around.

I just have a few thoughts, just tweaks, really,

so, please.

What if instead of taking place in New York City,

it took place in Ho Chi Minh City?

And then what if instead of Tabby,

the main character's name was Xin Lee?

And what if instead of changing a single word,

I poke both your eyes out with this stick?

Hey, I'm doing this for you, okay? You don't know these people.

Her cousin Louie is a very unstable guy with a lot of firearms.

You know, when you frenched that old bag in the apartment,

I figured you for a player.

But I can see now you're all tongue.

Do me a favor, don't sit at the high-stakes table

if you can't afford to lose, kid.

- If you're challenged to a duel-- - I run.

You want high stakes?

How about $15,000?

What's on your mind, slim?

Another bet, you win, the check is yours.

- I lose? - You throw this out, you write me another book

and you get out of Toby's life, gracefully.

If we're gonna gamble, let's gamble.

You win, I'll kill the book, but I walk.

No book. Period.

I like my idea better.

That's the bet. Take it or leave it.

The coward dies a thousand deaths.

The hero dies but once.

- Done. - Cut.

No, no, no.

None of this luck crap, this time I pick the game.

It's just you and me, slim. Mano a mano.

Fine.

What's your game?

Fire or smoke?

Now, what do you think?

Ah! You took your finger off.

The left hook. The left.

You stepped right into my trap.

King me.

Finish him! Finish him!

Boom!

Game over, book dead.

- You're making a big mistake, Martin. - I've made them before.

Ah! Not so fast.

We still have some more writing to do.

You're farewell speech to Toby.

The winner!

Marty!

Gibby! Hello.

Marty, I had the most distressing call

from Maddox March over the weekend.

Apparently, he's shit-canning the Tabby book?

- He is? - Yes.

And if the pastry girl hadn't been playing Vivaldi

on my winkle at the time, I would have burst into tears.

Care to explain?

I have no idea, Gibby. I'm-- I'm shocked.

Good, I'd hate to think you'd bitten the paw that feeds you.

No, Gibby. Never.

Ah, ah, ah, check, please, Marty.

Bon voyage! Bon voyage!

Carter thanks you very much.

Carter, what-- He got that Reagan book?

No, no, he's re-tiling my bathroom.

Look who the cat coughed up.

Morning, Toby. How are you doing?

Maddox left me.

What? Why?

He said all writing comes from pain,

and I made him so happy

he couldn't even write a decent grocery list.

You should have seen him.

It was like he broke his own heart.

Wow. That must have been...

A command performance.

...tough on both of you. And I'm-- I'm sorry.

Why does everybody care more about themselves

than my happiness?

I guess that's the way people are.

He moves, to, uh, Monte Carlo,

and all I have to remember him by is this.

Hey, where'd you get that?

I stole it out of Gibby's office.

Don't read it. It'll just remind you of...

You. You. You.

...him.

It-- it's better to make a clean break.

It's too late. I already read it.

Yeah? What did you think?

Let me tell you something.

He was right about losing his pain.

That book is garbage.

The characters, totally unbelievable.

And that Tabby girl. Ugh.

She's so annoying, I wanted to shoot her.

I know what you mean.