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"I'm telling you, we need a new TV."
"For the last time, Kowalski, Harvard beating New Mexico was not a glitch on our screen. It is an actual thing that happened."
"I'd believe you if that was it. But Florida Gulf Coast taking down Georgetown? Gotta be the TV."
"Again, an actual thing that happened. I know you're sad about your bracket getting shredded, but everyone's did. The president, Welsh, me…we all got screwed on that."
"That guy…the anti-taxes guy? He got Florida Gulf Coast right."
"What do taxes have to do with it?"
"His bracket was based on the idea that the best teams would come from states with the lowest income taxes. Florida has no income tax, DC does, so…."
"Wow. Betchya he didn't pick Harvard, though."
"Nah, Gulf Coast was pretty much the only one he got right. He had Valparaiso in the final four, can you believe it?"
"Politics and sports…worse combo than the number three at Taco Bell. Anyway, our having a different television would not have changed the outcome of either of those games."
"I could believe that. I choose not to."
"Fraser would call that magical thinking and then he and his dead dad would laugh at you for days."
"Fraser told you about Bob?"
"Yeah. It was weird, but I kinda believed him, ya know?"
"Me too. I just wish Bob had been a little more helpful, you know, more like Al on Quantum Leap instead of like…well, Fraser giving personal advice. Just this side of completely useless. Weird for a guy who's so good at everything else. I guess he don't need personal advice. He gets lonely, he just looks around and people line up to buy him shots of caribou milk or whatever."
"Oh, fuck Fraser."
"God knows I tried."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"What did he even do?"
"Said he was supportive of my interest in exploring different facets of my sexuality."
"Ouch."
"Then he started talking about Seal Sally and mukluks."
"Right, the safe sex lecture."
"That's the one."
"Harsh, Kowalski, harsh."
"It really wasn't that bad. I just fucked…someone else instead."
"Oh, God, that means it's someone I know. It was Turnbull, wasn't it?"
"Don't make me regret bringing this up. I just confided some deep pain to you, here, and now you're getting all mockity on me. Next you'll say I did Dewey, Huey and four identically dumb-assed FBI agents in the breakroom. Which would be…probably more interesting than the truth, actually. God, we're pathetic."
"Hey, I slept with Irene, then Angie, then a couple of other ladies, and then you. Just because you chose to go…a different way…."
"I'm not a slut, Vecchio."
"Not now."
"Not ever. Oh, my God, this is why you always want to fuck in the car, isn't it?"
"I don't know what you mean by that."
"You know exactly what I mean. You probably were all sweet and tender and respectful to Irene and Angie and the couple of other ladies. Never even hinted that you wanted to have your way with them in a car, or that they were the kinda girls who could be had in a car."
"Would you put the make on Sister Anne in a car?"
"I wouldn't put the make on Sister Anne at all. When she was in high school…I have no idea. I was busy putting the make on Stella, who herself put the make on me in more than one car on more than one occasion."
"Well, if it was more than one car on the same occasion, that would break the laws of physics, genius."
"I was emphasizing the sheer quantity of times I got lucky in cars. You, though, never did, I bet. Because you only went with nice girls. Women. But you hook up with me and it's all, 'Oh, Kowalski will do it pretty much anywhere' and out come all those high school fantasies about sex and cars."
"Weren't we talking about getting a new TV?"
"Ha! I knew I was on to something."
"Focus, Kowalski."
"I'm your bad boy fantasy! Your slutty, bad boy fantasy."
"Yes. Yes, that is precisely what you are. You're the burnout case with the leather jacket and the switchblade in his boot and the cigarette behind his ear who, if I just try hard enough, will turn into a law-abiding citizen because I'm so pretty and special with my feathered hair and strawberry lip gloss and compassion I learned from reading Cosmo."
"Worst. Mental. Picture. Ever."
"Now how about getting a TV with a decent picture?"
"Wow. I am in awe of your ability to create a smooth conversation transition type thing, there."
"Look, are we going to be doing this all day?"
"I know I can but what are you?"
"Kowalski, that makes no sense whatsoever."
"It takes a big man to admit he can't keep up with me."
"I'm not even gonna touch that one. Go to channel, what, 387? I think that's the shopping app channel."
"Got it. 'LCD TVs.' Okay, they've got nine on the screen."
"Good Lord, I can't even read the brand names. And does that say 'LCD' or 'LED'?"
"Dunno. Man, our TV is bad."
"Your TV. This was the spare you got in the divorce, isn't it?"
"Hey, I got the good TV. This was state of the art...in 1994. Which makes it older than most of the players."
"We gotta call Frannie."
"What, so she can go to 387 and read the screen to us over the phone?"
"No, wiseass. In case you haven't noticed, she's pretty much the best comparison shopper in the Central time zone."
"Just…do me a favor and don't mention that she and I are kinda in the same club, okay?"