Alex Rose: We brought you this little housewarming gift. [Gives Mrs. Connelly a bottle of wine]
Mrs. Connelly: Oh, that's very kind of you, thank you. I'll open it for you. I don't drink myself, it's a sin.
Alex Rose: [To Nancy] Irish Catholics don't drink?
Mrs. Connelly: Sit down, dears, sit down! I brought ya a little something to nibble on as well.
Alex Rose: Oh, Bugles. Wow, I didn't realize they even still made Bugles.
Mrs. Connelly: [Offering Alex a Bugle dipped in French onion dip] Come along, dear, it's French onion.
[Alex nibbles it while looking at the box of Bugles. The expiary date reads 'October 1997']
Alex Rose: Magnificent parrot.
Mrs. Connelly: It's not a parrot, dear. He's a macaw. He's named after my late husband, Richard. I've had Little Dick for forty years.
[Alex and Nancy smile]
Mrs. Connelly: Now tell me about yourselves. What do you do, Allen?
Alex Rose: [Correcting her] Alex.
Nancy Kendricks: Alex is a writer.
Mrs. Connelly: Oh, a writer. I always thought of that as more of a hobby than a real job. I suppose I'm forgettin' about Joyce.
Alex Rose: Joyce, James Joyce, of course. Wonderful writer.
Mrs. Connelly: He died drunk and penniless.
Nancy Kendricks: Well, Alex's first novel was published in hardback, and he's just about to finish his second one.
Mrs. Connelly: Oh, what's it about?
Alex Rose: Well, I like to call it an urban epic. It's about three generations of this family in New York that own a printing press, and I tell a story mainly about...
Mrs. Connelly: [Bored, cutting him off] Oh, that's nice. Let me give you a refill. Big Dick had the taste, too. He was a seaman. The drink took him from me in 1963. We'd been married for 58 years.
[Nancy counts silently]
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