The Melancholy Korean

“I still have some twenties in my files from that gentlemen’s palace in Midtown.”

“Jesus, Mell. You mean Scores money? You saved some, all this time?”

“I couldn’t throw away perfectly good currency.”

“I don’t know, Mell. Might have been better if you spent it. With inflation nowadays, I’m not sure twenty will get you very far.”

“Too bad they didn’t issue credit cards.”

“Too funny, Mell. Scores credit cards!”

“You think the Fed would swap that debt?”

“Sure. Why not? Stripping generates great cash flow.”

“Maybe Senator Dodd could help out.”

“Yeah, too bad Spitzer’s no longer govenor. I’m sure he would have been a big supporter, Mell. Big supporter.” 

“Hey, how far is Yahoo going to tank?”

“Sec.”

(beat)

“Mumbai! Where’s Yahoo trading on Instinet?”

“Who’s Mumbai?”

“New hire. MIT.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah, he graduated early. But he’s a good kid, Mell. You’d like him.”

(silence) 

“Looks like twenty-two and change.”

“Here’s hoping it breaks twenty.”

“Mell, don’t tell me you Chinesed the spread.”

“Why not?”

“Jesus.  You got some freakin’ balls.”

“Relax, Captain.  It’s just Scores cash.”

“Are you afraid of death, Nicky?”

“Morning, Sunshine.”

“I used to think no one would come to my funeral. Like that woman who died from the anthrax attacks. You remember her, Nicky? Her neighbors said she seemed like a nice lady. But she had no friends. She never talked to anyone. Her family was still in Vietnam, or something.”

“You’re a real life-of-the-party kind of guy, aren’t you?”

“Now I know my funeral is gonna be worse. People will come. Oh yeah, sure. Everyone will come. They’ll come in the morning, feel sad for a few minutes during the brief service, and when it’s all over, they’ll walk into the sunshine, make a few jokes outside church to break the tension, and then go to brunch.”

“Your funeral’s gonna be on the weekend?”

“By the time they go home, I’ll be forgotten.”

“How about this, Cupcake? At brunch, I’ll order a Sapphire and tonic in your honor. Cheers to you.”

“Christ, Nicky.”

“Those pills are messing with your mind, Buddy Boy. I ain’t a doctor, but a fucking zombie has more personality than this. You sound like that fucking girl in that fucking movie.”

“Scarlett Johansson in Lost in Translation?”

“Who?”

(beat)

“You know the one, Doc. The Italian girl.”

“Heather Matarazzo? Welcome to the Dollhouse? I’m impressed, Nicky. Todd Solondz. I feel like I’m talking to fucking Jean-Luc Godard here. You wanna discuss auteur theory?”

“OK, Wise Guy. You know who I mean. The ugly one who sounds like she’s got a disability when she talks.”

“Sophia Coppola.”

“It’s a sin to say this, Sweet Cheeks, but I swear, I was cheering when she got shot up at the end. Big Nose wrecked that movie.”

“You gonna cheer when I’m gone?”

“Just because you smoke more than the tail pipe of my sister’s car, and drink as much as three Red Sox fans at a wedding, doesn’t mean you won’t live a long time.”

“How the fuck do you figure that, Nicky?”

“It’s what you always tell me, Professor: the wise guys the gods love — they die young. Everyone else, you’re fucked. You get to stay here a long time.”

“i need to talk to you.”

“You drunk?”

“Nicky, I need to talk to you.”

“What’s up, Sweet Cheeks? You wet your bed or something?”

“I had a dream I was sailing in Cape Cod with Mitt Romney.”

(silence)

“What did I tell you, Cupcake?”

“No, wait.”

“No, Doctor, you wait. I’m not listening to your crazy depressed shit. Not today. You wanna talk about dreams? I had one about a couple of Brazilian chicks and this huge snake.”

“Christ, Nicky. Just listen for a sec.”

“If you get homo on me, I swear I’m gonna get off the phone and fucking kill myself, right here on the exchange, I’m gonna cut my throat.”

“Sybil was on the boat, too.”

“Fuck me. This is gonna end well. Just like last time.”

“Romney kept asking her who enjoyed sex more, men or women.”

“You know I love you, Doctor, but you have got some seriously fucked up dreams. I swear to God, I’m gonna get you outta that house and—no, wait. First, I’m gonna get up there and kick your fucking ass, and then I’m gonna introduce you to some girls who…”

“Christ, Nicky. Could you just listen?”

“My turn, Doctor. I don’t like where your dream is going. See, I had these two broads, naked, laid out on my bed, and then this huge snake, it must’ve been the size of Montana…”

“Do you want to know what she said?”

“No, I do NOT fucking want to know what she said. No. What’s the matter with you?”

”Out of ten parts, a man enjoys only one.”

“Thanks. ‘Out of ten parts a man likes one.’ Great. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Can you translate for the Non Genius on this call? What—you sleep with ten girls, you only like one of them? Shit. That sounds about right.”

“Jesus, Nicky. Just fucking listen. Then she made Romney go blind, and he started screaming like a stuck pig. I had to push him out of the way to get to the steering wheel thing, it was one of those America’s Cup yachts, the boat was so fucking big, and then I realized we weren’t on the Cape at all. We were on a river.”

“Swear to Christ, I started bawling like a baby. Because I knew it wasn’t any river. It was the river Styx, Nicky, and we were sailing straight to hell.”