I don't know what I'm gonna get him for Christmas yet. He's already got everything.

He doesn't need anything anymore.

Well, I haven't decided what I'm gonna get you yet.

Better start looking.

What about me?

You'll see.

A lot of fun you are. You're supposed to tease me, give me hints, make me guess, you know.

Does it bother you?

What?

Walking around in circles.

[spotting a derelict on the park bench]

Oh look, that's terrible.

He's not hurting anyone.

Neither are we. Oh God. Every time I see one of those old guys, I-I always think the same thing.

What do you think?

I always think that he was once somebody's baby boy...and he had a mother and a father who loved him. And now, there he is, half-dead on a park bench and where is his mother or his father or his uncles now? Anyway, that's what I always think.

I always think of how when they had the newspaper strike in New York, more of those old guys died. Fifty of them frozen died in one night.

Just because there were no newspapers?

Really.