Mr. Newberry : Did I have you figured wrong? Marty : I don't know -- I mean, I hope so. Mr. Newberry : I visualised you in a haze as one of those slackster, flannel-wearing, coffee-house misanthropes I've been seeing in Newsweek. Marty : No-no-no, I went the other road. Six figures, doing business with lead-pipe cruelty, mercenery sensibility. You know... sport sex, no real relationships. How about you -- how have the years been treating you? Mr. Newberry : Well, you know me Martin -- still the same old sell-out, exploiting the oppressed... Marty : Sure. Mr. Newberry : Ah what a piece of work is man, how noble... oh **** it, let's have a drink and forget the whole damn thing.

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