and clean.
The gun?
Yes.
It was my second husband's.
Kolya's using it tomorrow.
You're giving Nikolai
the instrument of his own death?
Oh, Nikolai can hold his own.
He's a Greco-Roman bronze medalist.
Bottom line, Joel,
Nikolai has chutzpah.
Okay. Chicken Kiev.
Beef Stroganoff, no peas.
Shelly, you know this man
better than anybody.
Please talk some sense into him.
It's gonna be really yucky
if he catches any lead.
When was the last time
you knew a guy who's willing to get
his brains blown out over nothing?
Holling, you in there?
Yeah.
What happened, hon? You fall in?
No! Don't!
Don't what?
I know you like your naps...
and your blankie
and-and doing spoons with me
and Hug Bear,
but it'll come back, hon.
We'll work it out.
This is not the way.
Shelly, I'm not going to kill myself.
You're not?
No.
I'm going to kill a moose.
A moose?
Yes, a moose.
But-But you said you weren't
gonna kill animals anymore.
You took a vow
before yourself and God.
Yes.
I guess that's one of my problems-
being cooped up here like a pet poodle.
It's time I broke out,
did the wild thing.
Like Tolstoy.
You Chris in the Morning?
Yeah, yeah.
Hi.
Hi.
Do I know you?
You wrote that letter.
What letter?
"Dear Lightfeather,
Can I compare you to a Harley hog?''
Oh. Yeah, yeah, that letter.
Yeah.
That was good, really good.
I never read anything that good.
"I want to ride
your fuel-injected beauty forever.''
Wow. Yeah. Lightfeather, look,
we don't wanna get
the singer confused with the song.
Oh, I like that.
Say some more.
Hey!
Whoa! Yeah, you're strong,
aren't ya?
Look, uh, I wrote that stuff for Ed.
You know, it's, uh-
That's how Ed feels about you,
not me.
But I'm the motorcycle, right?
Those were my fenders,
my dual exhausts.
Yeah, sure, right.
But, you know, it's a question of ethics.
'Cause I'm trying to help this guy,
and-
It's not that I'm incapable
of stabbing a friend in the back.
You know,
I'm as guilty as anybody.
I'm just not prepared to do it
at this here particular time.
Why not?
Why not?
Uh, 'cause-
Look, no offense, Lightfeather,
but I gotta draw the line
at any indication of freckles.
It's not a value judgment.
It's just-
Well, for you, it's an accident of birth,
but for me it's a- arbitrary preference.
You think I like the way you look?
Or Ed?
I like guys with
a little more meat on their bones.
Then what do you want?
I want the words.
The words?
"Hot, roaring machinery.''
"Swelling fuel tank.''
Oh, you like the words.
I never knew you could get
all that from a motorcycle.
I thought a motorcycle's
just a motorcycle.
No, no, no.
Writers have been doing it for years.
It's called
eroticizing the landscape.
From, uh, the Kamasutra
to-to Henry Miller.
There's even a French poet
named Baudelaire...
who did a lot of interesting stuff
with wet cat fur.
Wet cat fur?
Yeah, yeah.
Hey, why don't you sit down?
Lightfeather,
I tell ya what I'm gonna do.
I'm gonna make you a reading list.
Plus, I'm gonna write you
one last letter.
Then you gotta go.
Good.
Okay.
I'm gonna compare you to a summer's day.
Huh!
Different strokes for different folks.
That's good. Write that.
Come.
I'll see you.
- Hey, Ed. Can I come in?
- No.
- You okay?
- No.
Look, man, I'm really sorry.
Yeah, well,
you wrote those letters...
and you let me go out there,
and you knew that
she'd like you better than me.
No, I didn't. I didn't.
But you're right. It's no excuse.
'Cause I put some stuff
in the universe...
and it unleashed a chain of events,
and I blew it.
And I'm sorry.
Well, I guess
I did kind of beg you.
It's okay. You can have her.
I- I don't want her.
You don't?
No.
Why not?
Well, there's nothing wrong with her.
I mean, don't get me wrong.
But karmically,
you know, forget it.
You play, you pay.
You know, I always thought about
what it would be like.
But it was much different.
Much, much different.
What? What was?