externalize my feelings...
without inhibition...
even my anger...
then everything is fine.
So I'm fine.
And I don't want you
to feel that you can't be...
completely honest with me...
because marriage needs to be based
on openness and trust...
as well as basic
sexual compatibility.
Everything is fine.
- Are you sure?
- Yeah.
Everything is fantastic.
- Good.
- Except for your sister.
Uh... I don't think
she's too crazy about me.
- Well, that's because you're not her type.
- Huh?
I mean, she teaches modern
art at the university, for God's sake.
She goes for those
quasi-intellectual types...
with the glasses
and the frown lines...
and Siberian movies.
Don't. I don't want
to hear it anymore.
You're not gonna leave her.
She knows it.
You know it.
And finally,
I know it.
Bye.
- What's this?
- Mrs. Doyle returned it.
What kind of country
is this...
where people don't even
respect the last wishes of the dead?
Shall I read you the mail or throw it
directly into the wastebasket?
You should only read
love letters.
But they are love letters.
Here's a love letter
from the bank...
and one from the
insurance company...
and, ooh,
very romantic.
A letter
from your optician...
accompanied, of course,
by the bill for your last contacts.
Bills, bills, bills.
Is that all people
ever think about?
What if I don't pay? What are
they gonna do, gouge my eyes out?
I wouldn't give them
any ideas.
Pay the man.
Is Mr. Dodge in?
Do me a favor and tell my brother Arthur
to stop playing hide-and-seek with me.
Tell him I need to
speak to him tonight, you understand?
- Uh, Mr. Dodge.
- You are looking for my brother too?
If you see him before I do,
please tell him I am in town.
Tell him I am in town.
Tell him...
Bart is in town.
Art Dodge, please.
Someone who sounds like Art
calling for Art.
- Hello?
- Hello. I'm calling Art Dodge.
His gallery said I could
reach him at this number.
Fifteen minutes?
I'll call back.
It's his brother, Bart.
All right. Fine.
Bye.
Fine, fine. Fine.
Gloria, it's me.
Listen, it's important.
Call me at Betty's
in exactly, uh...
twenty minutes.
Hi.
Hi.
- Oh, your brother called.
- What? What did you say?
She said your brother called.
What's the matter? Is he dead?
- Since when do you have a brother?
- Since I was 12 minutes old.
- You're twins?
- Yeah.
Huh. Absolutely identical.
Yeah.
That's a happy thought.
Well, we look the same, but,
uh, we've got nothing in common.
I mean, he paints, he
broods, he lives for his art.
He doesn't even like
to sell it.
Maybe he just likes
what he does.
Yeah, who knows?
It takes all kinds.
You know what? He burns some of
his paintings. He's... He's crazy.
That sounds like a colossal
waste of time to me.
Sounds like he might
even be a human being.
- When was the last time you saw him?
- Years.
Last I heard, he was in Italy.
Sorry.
Hello?
Yeah. Hold on.
It's for you.
- For me?
- Mm-hmm.
Really?
- Hello?
- At the tone, the time will be...
exactly 8:30.
Beep.
Gloria, Gloria.
Have you got Bart there?
- I just don't know how to answer that one.
- Let me talk to him.
There must be an easier way
to get a girl into the sack.
Bart? Oh, God!
I can't believe
it's you, man!
I can't believe this is how I'm
using my degree in architecture.
How long are you here for?
What are your plans?
Met this guy a couple of days
ago, works for Sentinel Express.
Maybe we'll have a few drinks. I'll
check out his overnight delivery.
You know, I really
want to see you.
Your relationships with women are
getting more and more bizarre, Art.
- You want to get that looked at.
- When can we get together?
Maybe you should try the
personals. You know what I mean?
- I see, I see.
- Have you considered masturbation?
Well, I can't
promise anything.
Oh, come on.
Promise me something.
- Okay, we'll talk tomorrow.
-