[Bruce is behind his desk, rubbing a credit or business card down his cheek.]
Mark: [enters the office] Gerald.
Bruce: Gerald! How are you, ya old skunk?
Mark: Ah, how are you, ya old snake?
[They begin shaking hands.]
Bruce: Pretty good. [laughs] Good to see ya. Hey, how was your weekend?
Mark: Aw, not too bad. A little too short, though; how was yours?
Bruce: [laughs] Good, but a little short.
[They finally stop shaking and sit down–Bruce behind his desk and Mark in the chair in front of it.]
Mark: Well, I would now be willing to take a look at the proposal your client is making to my Lori.
Bruce: On behalf of Dennis I’m, um, happy to show it to you.
[He hands Mark one large index card, which Mark looks at.]
Bruce: It’s perfectly straightforward.
Mark: A little too damn straightforward, Gerald; don’t you think?
Bruce: Uh…what do you mean?
Mark: I’m sorry. I can in no way say that this represents the interests of my client.
Bruce: It’s a standard itinerary, Gerald–dinner, dancing, and [mumbles into his hand] intercourse.
Mark: [abruptly] I beg your pardon?
Bruce: [confident] Dinner, dancing, and intercourse.
Mark: You mean a quick *hump*, don’t you Gerald?!
Bruce: I do not mean a quick hump, Gerald! Do not use that expression in this office! Children come in here!
Mark: “Dinner, dancing, and intercourse”–what do you think my client is, huh? A 90-dollar-an-evening hooker?
Bruce: This is dinner at the *Plaza*, Gerald.
Mark: Oh really?! So, she’s a 120-dollar-an-evening hooker, is that it?
Bruce: Well, at least a hooker comes across. [pause] I can’t believe I said that.
Mark: Gerald, do I sense that, uh, your client has certain feelings for my client?
Bruce: My client makes 62,000 dollars a year.
Mark: Ah. But, does your client have certain emotional interests towards my client.
Bruce: He’s got a really great car and a moustache.
Mark: Gerald, does your client love my client?
Bruce: Yes! No! He’s not sure. [pause] Back off Gerald!
Mark: I’ll back off, but perhaps now you’d be willing to take a look at the proposal my client is making to your client.
Bruce: [big sigh]
[Mark opens up his briefcase and drops a folder containing a thick stack of papers onto the desk. Bruce opens the folder and flips through a few pages without really looking anything.]
Bruce: You forgot one thing, Gerald.
Mark: What’s that?
Bruce: The actual date of the wedding and the color of the bridesmaids’ gowns!
Mark: Come off it Gerald. It’s a standard 17-week dating commitment. All my client wants to do is to get to know your client.
Bruce: Hey, all my client wants to do is get to know your client.
Mark: In a completely different way!
Bruce: I don’t know, I think she’s gotten to know quite a few clients. [Opens up desk drawer, ready to take out folders.] Let’s just look at her roster of ex-boyfriends.
Mark: Gerald, that’s inadmissible and you know it!
Bruce: [realizes his error and gently closes the drawer.] The Doobie Brothers??
Mark: All right, perhaps we were a little hasty with the 17-week dating commitment. Perhaps we can accommodate the obvious interests of your client a bit more. How about this: a six date schedule with possible sexual intercourse on date six.
Bruce: Gerald, I’m no longer interested in this “possible sexual intercourse” you keep selling me on. Last time, it turned out to be a cheap handjob at the drive in.
Mark: Your client ejaculated, Gerald!
Bruce: Sadly. Very sadly. Let’s just let sleeping dogs lie, shall we? [pause] Three date schedule, guaranteed sexual intercourse on dates two and three.
Mark: Uh uh. Five date schedule, guaranteed sexual intercourse on date five. Now that’s a one-way ticket to Loveland, Gerald. That’s a heap of good lovin’. That’s a Love-o-rama. That’s a Love Fest. That’s a Love Woodstock, for God’s sake. Come back to me.
[Long pause. Bruce has a goofy smile on his face, in thought.]
Bruce: Gerald. [calling him in closer] Gerry. [closer] Ger. . .Guh. Why don’t we forget the guaranteed sexual intercourse clause.
Bruce: Why don’t we let nature take it’s course.
Bruce: You know the good old fashioned way?
Mark: [eagerly] Yeah, okay.
Bruce: A one date schedule with a guarantee that your client will consume 27-ounces of gin on that evening.
Mark: Come off it Gerald! That’s panty peeler and you know it.
Bruce: Call it what you will, it’s a tool of the trade.
Mark: Sorry Gerald. C’mon, she only weighs 105 pounds, for God’s sake.
Bruce: I believe she weighs 111 pounds, Gerald.
Mark: In shoes! [pause] All right. I can’t see letting her drink more than 8-ounces of gin.
Bruce: Jeez, I think she can drink, uh, 14-ounces of gin.
Mark: Maybe 10, maybe 10.
Bruce: I think she could scarf down 12-ounces of gin.
Mark: 11-ounces of gin.
Bruce: 12-ounces of gin on an empty stomach.
Mark: 11 on an empty stomach.
Bruce: [taps his fingers on the desk, calculating in his head.] 111. . .Done!
[Both getting up]
Mark: I’ll have my secretary pick up the contracts Monday.
[They lean over and kiss each other on the cheek. Mark turns to leave and then they do a subtle double take.]