behind the refrigerator.
Didn't I tell you? The guy is funny.
Tell them what you told me
about the half-inch pipe.
Yeah. Fabricated half-inch pipe.
What was the tool
that you used with that?
-Fabricated half-inch--
-What kind of tool?
-Yeah, what kind of tool?
-You need a ratchet.
-What do you know about pipes?
-I used to do toilets.
-What kind of tool was it?
-You take both hands and grab it.
It's time for me
to shout ''Europe'' at the sink.
-Shout what?
-Shout ''Europe'' at the sink.
''Europe'' who?
You're up.
-I'm dying. Doesn't he kill you?
-Where did you find this guy?
Play something.
Sit down!
Have I got time, I ask myself.
Hold on. All right.
Where is my fabricated half-inch pipe?
Give me my fabricated half-inch pipe
Please give me that old
fabricated half-inch pipe
And I'll beat the crap out of you
I'll beat the crap out of you!
He's beautiful.
You got two burgers and a lunch special
and fries coming up, okay?
-Coffee.
-Is this decaf?
No. Did you ask for decaf?
I asked you twice for decaf.
Is that a problem here?
A little water would be nice, too,
if you're not busy.
-You want to fight?
-No.
I just can't drink this stuff, gives me gas.
Sorry to hear that.
Are you okay?
Yeah.
-Anything I can do for you?
-No, honey. I'm fine.
Honey. Where's my hamburger?
I honestly don't know.
''I've never been very good at good-byes...
''Arthur...
''so I'll just say that I love you...
''and adore you...
''and always will.
''Linda.''
Man, I'm tired of hearing you
read that stuff.
Ain't you got anything else to do?
''Dearest Arthur...
''I can't stay anymore.''
Frank. Let me tell you something.
Hi.
-Want a drink?
-Thank you. In a moment.
''Dearest Arthur...
''I can't stay anymore.
''I....''
-What are you doing?
-It's my car. I saw it first.
You've been copping all my business.
You take a walk!
I'll take the yellow car.
Nicer class of person altogether.
-Get out of here. Get a job.
-I got a job. I had one.
The cash register wouldn't open.
Nice type of person. Let's have lunch!
There's nothing like being
in the middle of the road.
Big car. Lovely.
Mr. Bach.
Bitterman! How the hell are you?
Sir, is that you? What are you doing here?
They said I'd never make it, Bitterman.
They said the city would eat me alive.
Now look at me. I have my own pail.
I have my own squeegee sponge.
I showed them all.
Sir, can I give you some help?
No, I don't need any help.
I've washed windshields
10 times dirtier than this.
Martha !
-Arthur, what are you doing?
-I was just washing--
Are you going to marry
Susan Johnson or not?
Listen, I told you I can't.
You don't seem to--
Get the thing out of my face.
I'm sorry.
Enough is enough, Arthur. Marry the bitch.
You marry her, Martha !
Holy....
Of course, my family, the Bach family,
owns about 40% .
Exactly 40% .
We each own 40% .
And then, of course, Mr. Johnson...
old clever dick...
he bought up
the controlling interest, 20% ...
because he wants me to marry Susan,
but I don't love Susan.
Right. I don't want to talk about it.
You're quite right.
Then Mrs. Canby....
Mrs. Canby said I needed a job.
But the cash register would not open.
Yeah. Absolutely.
It was a very quiet cash register.
Very, very quiet.
Then Linda left me a note.
I've got it. It's not too long.
I'll read it to you.
Hello, Arthur.
Hob....
Yes, very well put.
Brevity is the soul of wit.
Hobson?
-But you're....
-Dead.
Yes, I am dead.
How tactful of you to mention it.
Our little conversation is off
to a most auspicious start.
So this is....
What? A dream?
A dream? Perhaps.
My money would be on a drunken stupor.
What can I do, Hobson?
I mean, what would you do
if you were me?
The word ''bathe'' comes to mind.
I was sorry to hear
about you and Linda, Arthur.
-A wife like that is hard to find.
-Still is.
Come on, Hobson. It's a joke.