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Street.
Thank you.
Five, eight, one, nine...
...six...
...two.
[CHUCKLING]
That was funny.
That was funny.
Patzak, please. P-A-T-Z-A-K
on Mulberry Street in Manhattan.
Thank you.
- Five, eight, six, two...
- Don't.
Nine, three, eight, zero.
[LAUGHING]
Now I have forgotten the number.
What is wrong with you?
Are you all right?
I have had a terrible, terrible night.
Do you understand?
I'm just trying to entertain you.
I don't want any entertainment!
And I'm sorry I did that. I'm sorry.
I'm under... Oh, God.
I'm unable to get home tonight,
you know? I can't get home.
And I'm trying desperately...
...to find a place I can stay tonight.
Just sleep. All I wanna do sleep.
I could stay on Spring Street,
but I don't want to.
- Why not?
- Why not what?
Why aren't you there?
On Spring Street. Go.
Because the bartender who lives there,
his girlfriend killed herself tonight.
- And I think it's because of me.
- That's out, then.
That's right, that's out.
That is out.
That is not a possibility.
So if you'd just let me
make this phone call...
...you'd be doing me such a favor,
you really would.
- Please.
- That can wait.
I hurt your arm and now
I want to dress your arm, please.
All right.
- How'd they get there?
- What?
- I was dipping papier-mch earlier.
- What is this?
"A man was torn limb from limb...
...by an irate mob last night...
...in the fashionable SoHo area
of Manhattan.
Police are having difficulty identifying
the man because no form of ID...
...was found on his shredded clothing."
- Shredded?
"And his entire face was pummeled
completely beyond recognition..."
- Forget that.
- Wow!
Can't handle that right now.
What does a guy have to do
to get his face pummeled?
- Jesus! Why does that hurt so much?
- It's infected.
- Stop touching it!
- I want...
Stop touching it!
- I know, I'll burn it off.
- No. You're not gonna...
I just need matches.
I'll go ask a neighbor.
- No, lady, no!
- My name is Gail!
Lady, no!
[SIREN WAILING]
No matches.
That's enough, now.
Where are you going?
I'm going home.
I'm walking home now.
- How far is home?
- East 91 st Street.
East 91 st, are you kidding?
Listen, I like you
and I don't know why...
Why don't I give you a ride
in my Mister Softee truck?
How does that sound?
- Where's the truck?
- Right around the corner.
PAUL:
Well, come on.
Come on.
- What's the matter?
- Shut up.
- What?
- Shut up.
What's wrong?
- You're dead, pal.
- I'm what?
Gail.
Gail, what are you doing?
What's wrong?
What...? Gail? What is that?
Are you still giving me a lift home?
What are you looking at me
like that for?
MAN: That's him! Over there,
with the whistle. That's him! Get him!
Oh, shit!
Help! Help! Call the police!
I went to school with your son!
I mean, Mom, it's me!
I can't... Oh, goddamn it!
[ICE CREAM TRUCK JINGLE PLAYS]
[NEIGHBORS SHOUTING]
You're so stupid!
Come on! Cut it out!
[WOMAN SCREAMING]
[MAN SCREAMS]
I'll probably get blamed for that.
What do you want from me?
What have I done?
I'm just a word processor,
for chrissake!
Excuse me. Hi.
I wonder, would you...
It's okay.
Would you help me?
Would you please help me?
What do you want me to do?
Where do you live?
Can you take me home?
Because there's certain things
that I, you know, will not do.
I'm telling you in advance.
PAUL:
Oh...
Oh...
Uh...
I really have to tell you something
before we start. Uh...
I have never done this
with a man before.
I'm a little bit nervous.
Listen, can I...
Can I use your telephone?
- Sure, it's...
- I see it. That's great.
WOMAN: Operator.
- Get me the police, please. Right away.
Just a minute.
MAN: Twelfth Precinct, Fitzgerald.
- Yes, officer. Thank God. Okay.
My name is Paul Hackett. I'm in SoHo.
I don't know the exact location.
I'm being persecuted
by a vigilante mob.
I'm sure you're aware of their actions.
Now, I have every reason in the world to

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