you buy me a drink, i'll buy you some music. rum collins.
you like castro? i mean -- how do you feel about castro?
you know, that big-shot down in cuba with the crazy beard.
because as far as i'm concerned, he's a no good fink. two weeks ago i wrote him a letter -- never even answered me.
all i wanted him to do was let mickey out for christmas.
my husband. he's in havana -- in jail.
mickey? he wouldn't do nothing like that. he's a jockey. they caught him doping a horse.
'twas the night before christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring -- nothing -- no action -- dullsville! you married?
family?
a night like this, it sort of spooks you to walk into an empty apartment.
where do we go -- my place or yours?
poor mickey -- when i think of him all by himself in that jail in havana -- -- want to see his picture?
he's so cute -- five-foot-two -- ninety-nine pounds. like a little chihuahua.
can i ask you a personal question?
you got a girl-friend?
still stuck on her, huh.
i don't know you at all.
i'm mrs. macdougall -- margie to you.
say, this is snugsville.
no kidding.
gee. sort of gives you goose-bumps just to think about it.
i'm with you, lover.
i broke a nail trying to get the ice-tray out. you ought to buy yourself a new refrigerator.
i didn't mean right now.
hey -- over here, lover.
what's all this running around? you're going to wear yourself out.
not so rough, honey.
good night?
what's the matter? did i do something wrong?
say, what's going on here, anyway?
my shoes.
some lover you are. some sexpot!
you bet i will. and when i tell him how you treated me, he'll push your face in. you fink!