Winter Passing

Corbit:
Well, I gotta go rock. And if you see Holdin, tell him his balls are clean.

Reese Holden:
Wow. Where's she from? Wimbledon?

Reese Holden:
I just can't believe this is the same man who told his six-year-old daughter that Christmas was a Republican capitalistic conspiracy created by the Hallmark Corporation and that, if Jesus were alive today he'd be down in Nicaragua rallying the Sandinistas. Grace Away.

Corbit:
Crack cocaine, huh? I've seen that stuff on Cops.

Corbit:
Crack cocaine will fry your brain.

Reese Holden:
Now there's a rhyme.

Reese Holdin:
For some reason I imagine you as an only child growing up in some vast, impenetrable mansion with turrets, Daddy modeling perpetual tennis wear, Mum playing badminton and having biscuits and tea on the front lawn. Why don't you go back to Narnia or wherever the f*** you're from and leave my dad alone?

Shelley:
Now trying to get a paragraph out of him is like pulling a piano out of a pond.

Reese Holdin:
Shelley!

Shelley:
Yeah?

Reese Holdin:
How old are you, anyway?

Shelley:
23. Why?

Reese Holdin:
Just wanted to do the math, in case you're f***ing my father.

Shelley:
Would he ever show you his stuff?

Reese Holdin:
I had to buy every book he has written.

Shelley:
Must have been an interesting childhood.

Reese Holdin:
Yeah. Competing for attention with twin No.3 Underwood typewriters won't do too much for your self-esteem.