GEORGE (cont'd): Oh, hello, Nick. Hey, where's Martini?
NICK: You want a martini?
GEORGE: No, no, Martini. Your boss. Where is he?
NICK (impatient): Look, I'm the boss. You want a drink or don't you?
GEORGE: Okay –– all right. Double bourbon, quick, huh?
NICK: Okay.
(to Clarence)
What's yours?
CLARENCE: I was just thinking . . .
(face puckers up with delicious anticipation)
It's been so long since I . . .
NICK (impatient): Look, mister, I'm standing here waiting for you to make up your mind.
CLARENCE (appreciatively): That's a good man. I was just thinking of a flaming rum punch. No, it's not
cold enough for that. Not nearly cold enough . . . Wait a minute . . . wait a minute . . . I got it. Mulled wine, heavy on the cinnamon and light on the cloves.
Off with you, me lad, and be lively!
NICK: Hey, look mister, we serve hard drinks in here for men who want to get drunk fast. And we don't need any characters around to give the joint atmosphere. Is that clear? Or do I have to slip you my left for a convincer?
As he says this, Nick leans over the counter and puts his left fist nearly in Clarence's eye. Clarence is puzzled by this conduct.
CLARENCE (to George): What's he talking about?
GEORGE (soothingly): Nick –– Nick, just give him the same as mine. He's okay.
NICK: Okay.
NICK: You want a martini?
GEORGE: No, no, Martini. Your boss. Where is he?
NICK (impatient): Look, I'm the boss. You want a drink or don't you?
GEORGE: Okay –– all right. Double bourbon, quick, huh?
NICK: Okay.
(to Clarence)
What's yours?
CLARENCE: I was just thinking . . .
(face puckers up with delicious anticipation)
It's been so long since I . . .
NICK (impatient): Look, mister, I'm standing here waiting for you to make up your mind.
CLARENCE (appreciatively): That's a good man. I was just thinking of a flaming rum punch. No, it's not
cold enough for that. Not nearly cold enough . . . Wait a minute . . . wait a minute . . . I got it. Mulled wine, heavy on the cinnamon and light on the cloves.
Off with you, me lad, and be lively!
NICK: Hey, look mister, we serve hard drinks in here for men who want to get drunk fast. And we don't need any characters around to give the joint atmosphere. Is that clear? Or do I have to slip you my left for a convincer?
As he says this, Nick leans over the counter and puts his left fist nearly in Clarence's eye. Clarence is puzzled by this conduct.
CLARENCE (to George): What's he talking about?
GEORGE (soothingly): Nick –– Nick, just give him the same as mine. He's okay.
NICK: Okay.






















. FWIW, I always follow the motto I posted, and have never gotten burnt by it yet.




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