ALL A B C D E F G H I J K L M
N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

(Joe walks out of the apartment building wearing a suit for a job interview. Suddenly, a bucket of paint drops on top of him.)
Walter Shit: Congratulate me! This is the first of my works to use paint. I call this piece "Instant Minority." I did the whole block!
Joe F. Grotowski: But people are black, or white, or brown; NOBODY'S PURPLE!
Walter Shit: Periwinkle! You're now the world's smallest minority.
Joe F. Grotowski: Dammit, Walter, how'm I s'posed to get a job looking like this?
Walter Shit: Know how to play the drums?
Joe F. Grotowski: No.
Walter Shit: Perfect! Want a job? (man in beanie runs in front of them, turns, and fires ten shots from a handgun) I'm doing a musical performance at Gusto House. You can sit in for my regular drummer: he's dead.
Joe F. Grotowski: Uhh... sure... what? He's dead?
Walter Shit: (chuckling) Actually, it's a pretty funny story. You see, there's this crack dealer in our building, and so my drummer- (two cops run up and start firing down the street at the man in the beanie, drowning out Walter's story) slit his throat, you know, so badly that his own mom couldn't identify him at the morgue. (laughs) I'm going to miss that guy. So, is it a deal?
Joe F. Grotowski: Well...
Walter Shit: Excellent!
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