#FumettiFriday #MonthOfMonsters Say what you want about Hammer Films, they never let a chance for product placement go by.
![[A tense scene in burial vault, as a man prepares to pound a wooden stake into the well-upholstered chestal area of a female vampire.]
Man: Diedre, I know it's a well-worn cliché, but I want you to know this hurts me more than it hurts you ... and since this is a Hammer film, I shall ruminate for an extra minute or two while the camera lingers on your impressive decollétage.
Diedre: Don't do me any favors, you randy little tosser. A stake through me 'eart beats 'avin' to listen to your *pathetic* whinging.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreiaejr2s4p3eiliftucrrqdvro62zoupxuxs3rdhysm2xvz3gpxtuy)
M.K. Iodine
@6-string-theory.bsky.social
2.3K followers 2.4K following 3.6K posts
Guitarist, photo-funny maker, lover of humor, follower of real journalists. Unless expressly stated, I do not own the rights to any of the images I've so cruelly defiled under the aegis of "Fair Use."
![[Black and white image of Dracula and Frankenstein's creature. They are in a cavernous room made of crude stone, and the lighting is harsh ... but this isn't an issue of House Beautiful anyway. Dracula has his hand on the creature's massive chest, as if to say, "Let me me handle it this time."]
Dracula: No, let me me handle it this time. The sign quite clearly says "No Soliciting."
Frankenstein's Creature: But they're not selling anything. They're Jehovah's Witnesses.
Dracula: In that case, they can "witness" me telling them to *piss off!*](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreiafytrxbuuszj5la5vexmluijiy3lo2fjidsypy7gdjyncuvv4e7e)
![[Frankenstein's creature and an attractive brunette converse furtively in a darkened hallway.]
AB: Ssh, we can't make a sound. My mom's asleep in the upstairs bedroom.
FC: Well, if this is a bad time, I could meet you tomorrow.
AB: No can do. I got a big presentation at 10 a.m., and then I'm off to our branch in Dubai.
FC: Uh-huh. Maybe someday you'll explain to me why a big deal, jet-setting executive still lives with her mom ...](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreif6332xey6y6rkcpagbkndq5vjsd5ngm2nhmxrjso7d6oxhs7pwdu)
![[Dr. Frankenstein --he of the impressive profile-- and his creation share a glass of wine in the creature's cell. Between them is a table with two candlesticks and a pile of human bones, including a skull.]
Dr. F: It's an amusing gewürztraminer the locals make, but it grows on you ...
Creature: Mm-hm, mm-hm ... lots of floral accents on the no-- *uh,* I mean, it's got a nicely nuanced bouquet.
Dr. F: That's right, go on, mock an old man's proboscis. You weren't the first, and you probably won't be the last.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreifpsjkrblnoeyp72qlnx36frvnhygmeh4aoow4sasz5s4wr5nmciq)
![[The Wolf Man (AKA Lawrence Talbot) is knocking on the bathroom door while looking over his shoulder.]
Wolf Man: Honey? You've been in there for kind of a long time ... I don't know if you noticed, but I've had three beers this evening, and this *is* our only bathroom.
Mrs. Talbot: So use the damned fire hydrant again, Mr. "Poor-Me-I-Got-the-Lycanthropy."
Wolf Man: Yeah, no can do ... the streetlight's come on, and the Gundersons are sitting out on their front porch.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreiedxds4dwomfc4ndoiin6smwbdi7hld4lh7uuex2znjazqhmyf2rm)
![[Domestic scene]
Wife: Look, I appreciate you pitching in and emptying the litterbox, but I need you to stop calling the clumps "pissbergs."
Husband: Aww ... can't a guy have a little fun?
Wife: No. Also, singing "Castles Made of Sand" while you scoop isn't as funny as you seem to think it is.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreic6fi65v5keoglvpth2uya6eejxt2p6ekhhoykzyyhvontzjtc6qq)
![[Black and white image of a man and a woman, both fashionably dressed, with their backs to a stone wall; the man holds a pistol in his hand. Some sort of gigantic man-beast casts a shadow over them and the wall.]
Woman: It's a good job you brought that *cute* little handgun to a whacking great monster fight.
Man: Oh, you're blaming me? Who had the *brilliant* idea of avoiding detection by wearing *white* evening wear?
Woman: Get a grip. No one's going to pay to see a movie called "The Island of Dr. Moreau's Unfashionable Victims."
Well, don't just stand there, Einstein. Go on, plink away. Maybe you can get him to be murderous *and* enraged.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreifyldc75txbs2rcf6z52rawmast2ud56i5c633keoe2gzwdp6iauy)
![[Black & white image of two men in a hallway; one is speaking on a public telephone as his comrade looks on.]
Gerald [on phone]: Hello, Frieda? It's me Gerald. No, I'm out on parole. Listen, what about getting the gang together for one last job? You're a what? A hedge fund manager? Well, when did *that* happen? Wow ... So that's a "no" to the whole life-of-crime thingie? All right. But could I still see you?
Other guy: Ask if she's got a friend for me.
Gerald: Oh, and d'you remember my old pal, "Dateless" Duane?](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreid7t3apdvgm534gypbzwgozelugotfaohpzec7xh6b4ar5otjfgdy)
![[Black and white image of three people in the back room of a German beerhall. One, an *apparent* blonde female, wears a dirndl and a pensive expression. Behind them, standing rather too close, a mustachioed older man is fastening on a necklace. And finally, on the right, a scowling fellow in a sort of military tunic. There is a cake with candles in the foreground. The plot, like lumpy gravy, thickens ...]
Blonde Person: Say, you're not gonna try havin' me jump outta that cake, are you? 'Cause I'm hyperglycemic.
Mustachioed Man: Fear not, *liebchen,* all you have to do is dance a bit, sing a few songs ...
Scowling guy: Give it up, Ernst. No one's going to believe *he's* the fan dancer.
Mustachioed Man: *Ach,* ye of little faith! With some strategic upholstery, he will be most convincing. I'll just add this finishing touch ... There! *Ausgezeichnet!*
Now let us get busy! That dirndl has to be back by six!](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreibknvhzbum3vll3l4j5fl6mbtjw7egjz5r3yaihriw7hp3bq74ebm)
![[Black and white image of an attractive woman reading a newpaper at a news-stand, while two men, one young, one older, look on. Of course they are, it's Ida Lupino, for crying out loud.]
Older news-stand proprietor: Lady, every day you come in here, scan the headlines and put the paper back. I can't make a living running no library!
Woman: Well, if you must know, I'm looking for an obituary.
Younger news-stand proprietor: See, for that, you'd have to buy the whole newspaper. Obits are always in the back section.
Woman: Not the one *I'm* looking for.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreicba7pdxqf4vvkjcnjtocf3i5jp5445q2o7hv36zzyqntn5zp66gq)
![[Black and white image of a tense scene in the office of a Russian oligarch. He is gesturing menacingly at his daughter and her beau, who are huddled together.]
Oligarch: Fyodor, I have told you to be staying the hell away from my daughter!
Daughter: Is no use trying to keep us apart, papa. Our love, it is steadfast!
Oligarch: *Da neuzheli?* What will your "steadfast" young man say when I offer to pay him 25,000 rubles to *get lost?*
Fyodor: Your obscene wealth doesn't intimidate *me,* Sergei. I'd say I prefer it in small denominations, with non-sequential serial numbers.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreicr6zvpulbk24muyczfhmqsb5cr5wqkgqnrjpecw5ds5jjqdruky4)
![[Black and white image of a grizzled old Frenchman in his local *boite*, with a bird of prey perched on his shoulder. He is speaking to an unseen bar-keep. We join them mid-convo.]
GOF: ... and *mon petit ami* here would like to have an absinthe.
Bar-keep: Erm, you *do* know that bird is stuffed, right?
GOF: Well, so would you be if you'd gone back to the All-You-Can-Eat buffet six times. Frankly, I don't know *where* he puts it.
Bar-keep: [cough] No? 'Cause I've got a pretty good idea as to where they'll be putting *you*.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreiezf6nzcsi6vm5kjoaeuvxhtgb622pt6u5jlm7bvb77rlhnb44izi)
![[Black and white image of a mother and father saying goodnight to their daughter and her boyfriend in the foyer of their home. The youngsters are dressed in typical Oktoberfest garb: lederhosen, dirndl, etc. The parents look like about to go someplace rather more elegant.]
Daughter: Well, we're off to rehearse our polka routine for Oktoberfest. I'll be home by midnight.
Father: I should hope so!
Boyfriend: Hope? Is that a thing with fathers?](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreifsvfmfxwhrartxqyhtkkw4q5awm7jncf7c4pyxo26az7ybjh2zjy)
![[Black and white photo of a crew of French workmen high above Paris, tightening bolts on what we're assuming must be the Eiffel Tower. For the purposes of this feeble wheeze, that's what we're going with.]
(Caption) Meanwhile, in the 7th arrondissement, 300 meters up:
François: Do not be arguing with me, Jacques. *You* forgot the painters' tape, so you can just climb down and get it. Besides, you're closer.
Jacques: Keep it up, François. I'll tell everyone you used to double-date with Dreyfus.
François: That's none of your affair!
Other workman: *Mon dieu*, it is to laugh! Jacques, you are more fun than the monkey full of fish shooting in a barrel!](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreieonnl33nhvadtc23idhtlrywgph65fh6mkpe6rtxnrzxssxyesu4)
![[Movie set: a dark, rustic room, exposed brick walls with a couple of oil paintings propped against them. The film's director is talking to an actor (James Mason, as it happens) who looks disheveled, and covered in some kind of detritus. Snowflakes? Dust? Dandruff?]
Director: The crew is setting up for the first shot. Why aren't you in makeup?
Actor: I've been here all night, feeling the cold seep into my bones and the character's growing desperation. It's the only way I can give a real, meaningful performance.
Director: You "Method" guys give me a throbbing, persistent pain. Ever tried, y'know, *acting*?](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreihakbxa33qbskakpauxmoz622ofr3swrvnfgaec3wmdve74gkafge)
![[Interior of a bordello. A comely wench is seductively perched on the knee of a serious Prussian type wearing a tuxedo, a monocle and one of the wench's diaphanous scarves. He seems to be looking past her, at something across the crowded room ...]
Prussian: Why, look at zat, vill you! It appears your favorite young man is a having *ein* spot of trouble *mit die Madame.*
Wench: Really Baron Luftskar, I am having no idea what you are getting at. You are *mein* one and only sugar-daddy.
Prussian: *Nachtenminx!* I am not quite *der* fool you take me for!
Wench: Well, which fool are *you,* then? I'm useless putting a face to the disposition.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreibiy6sh5qwrffmlbo3admeyp3rbnujhsdcdmhmjcmacq7iumqybmy)
![[Scene from World War II: An RAF pilot is leaning out of the cockpit of his fighter plane to talk to two women.]
Pilot: Mum, please. If you don't let go of my Spitfire, I can't take off.
Mum: *Tsk!* Just like your father! Always flying off somewhere ...
Pilot: Dad ran off with that chorus girl in 1934. I've gotta go shoot down Nazi bloody Messerschmitts. It's *hardly* the same!
Pilot's sister: Oi, be nice to her Nigel. She's had one hell of a week.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreihbzudd4gy3nhno7s6lsxyokekqv7r74cxqrf2x3n7oep5oogrzwi)
![[A neighborhood gathering. A seated woman is addressing a man; she's figured out his name by looking at his adhesive "Hello, I'm" sticker.]
Woman: So *you're* Harold Olmstead!
Harold: That's right. Me and the wife just bought that green ranch-style over on 14th.
Woman: That's what I love about these gatherings. It's so nice to put a face to the unsecured wi-fi network.
Woman's daughter (to her sister): Welp, sounds like it's time to take mom home.
[Original photo credit: Hang Vu / Chicago Tribune]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreiblno6552fx3jaflstwlabro2dlnlsbzlryvvdc3dmolboqp345ye)
![[A very posh sitting room decked out with elegant furniture and taspestry on the wall above an ostentatious fireplace. A woman, seated, is speaking to a man in a tuxedo. We should also mention he wears an ornate turban and a serene expression.]
Woman: Swami Origami, I can't thank you *enough* for taking time out of your schedule to visit us.
Swami: Why, it's nothing. As it happens, I often visit this neighborhood to get my turban waxed.
Woman: That's ... not some kind of disgusting euphemism, is it?
Swami: Madame, with all my heart, I wish it were.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreia3nzmteaidifrtvo5snzhk5zo73nm4zat6wspdev47kap3j65zsa)
![[Two women with bobbed hair are sitting very close, conversing seriously.]
Claire: Hermione, I hate to the one to tell you this, but ...
Hermione: Oh, Claire. It's not your fault, it's mine. Charles is a weak, venal little man-child. Of course he'd be tempted by a cheap and obvious little tramp like you.
Claire: Interesting. What I was *going* to say was: the Tupperware party's been moved to *Wednesday* evening.
Hermione: Oh. Can I bring Charles?
Claire: Sounds like it wouldn't be much of a party without him!](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreiha6y6kqln3hqe6bfkz4kt2krp6mgfeazmq6rcml4w3ck5la56ogy)
![[Panel 1: A Blackpool boardwalk in post-war Britain. A bored-looking teenaged girl (Lydia) in an unfortunate shimmery outfit, hectors passers-by to enter the tent and watch The Amazing Gregory.]
Lydia: Roll up, roll up, I say! The Amazin' Gregory will astound you with ... magic an' stuff like that.
Gregory [backstage]: *Oi!* Put some life into that spiel. Right now, even *I* wouldn't pay to see me!
Lydia: Come on, you lot! It's only five shillings! Step this way for fings you won't see anywhere else. Well, not in Blackpool, at any rate. Swansea, maybe ...
[Panel 2: Backstage, Gregory is practicing tricks with his top hat while berating Lydia through the scrim. He wears a tuxedo, has brilliantined hair, a mustache, and a cigarette that dangles from his pursed lips.]
Gregory: I swear to Christ, Lydia, if you weren't my niece, you wouldn't 'ave this job!
Lydia: If I wasn't yer niece, I wouldn't *need* this bleedin' job!](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreiazs7mtrmjckm3rp5tu3mawj7w74lkiexvhqhatrbgt7pnlcleohi)
![[Sepia-tone scene from early in the film "The Wizard of Oz" (1939). Dorothy is having words with Auntie Em and Uncle Henry in the barn.]
Auntie Em: Dorothy, stop pestering me! Did you get after those weeds like I asked you to?
Dorothy: Hell, no! Not after Uncle Henry threatened to skin me alive if I didn't keep away from his tools.
Uncle Henry: Only because *somebody*cain't be bothered to put things away the way they's s'posed to go.
Auntie Em: Well, go look in the kitchen drawer. We often weed with scissors.
Dorothy: *Ooh!* I just got a chill!](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreictark66plxpiicixrmizozdfoszrx3v6ojwbf2ld3h5sra2yzowm)
![[Panel from a Pogo comic strip. P.T. Bridgeport, a bear modeled on P.T. Barnum, Albert the Alligator, and Bridgeport's rabbit friend are speaking ...]
Bridgeport: I've worked out an act ... you climb a 150 foot pole. Then (daredevil!!!) you leap into a net held by Alonzo here and (special attraction) me!
Albert: Um, uh, s'pose I miss you?
Rabbit: We'd miss you too. Very much ...](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreihnxdbb7udy6s764weec6fr3uodye7cckuropka74guswa2zf6wgy)
![[Backstage in a theater dressing area, an older man wearing a tuxedo (Edward Everett Horton) presents a gift to a young ingenue, as two of her co-stars look on.]
Edward: You were brilliant tonight, my dear. You had that audience eating right out of your hand.
1st co-star: So *that's* what they were doing instead of, y'know, laughing and applauding.
Edward: Here ... it's a little token of my esteem.
2nd co-star: Hmm, hand-made, too. But remember, honey, even a bespoke token doesn't mean you have to go out with this old fossil.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreict4ro2lg2dhauvza7u7qacii5evvyx5gfvd5wzhts6ncyvifp6ey)
![[Black & white image of Parisians dancing in the street, courtesy of the great Robert Doisneau. Two young girls are dancing together amidst all the so-called grown-ups.]
Tall girl: Try to relax, Yvette. You know what they say: "Dance like no one is watching."
Yvette: But everyone *is* watching!
Tall girl: So what? It's Bastille Day, they're grown-ups, and each and every one of 'em is *trois feuilles au vent*! [three sheets to the wind]
Yvette: Well, just once could you let me lead?](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreiamb4in3d6tbnrylxi2ldfmeoqxrnavp4uq67zrfwnfxj3bzcsazi)
![[A tense conversation between a distraught-looking Elisha Cook, Jr. and a well-coifed woman ... we'll call her Maria. They are both holding cocktails, but Elisha there looks like he could use another round. Oh, and Maria sounds just like Natasha from the old "Bullwinkle" cartoons.]
Elisha: You just don't get it, do you? For Christ's sake, Maria, our lawyer's been convicted! Who knows what he's saying to try and cut himself a deal with the District Attorney!
Maria: Is not problem for *me,* big-deal Yankee politician-guy. When all this blows up in your face, I just go back to my *dacha* on the Dnieper.
Elisha: So you're just gonna throw me under the bus? I thought what we had was special.
Maria: Special for *you,* maybe. But that is some low setting for bar.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreibjb2mu2fhfjfvh6ogf52j7vzok5rtglvhs5a2woktmtcyaiqoffq)
![[Three people at the cashier's desk in a diner, two women and a man. He appears to be some kind of law enforcement officer.]
LEO: Well, Mavis, this'll be my last visit. They're reassigning me to night patrol on the Upper Peninsula.
Mavis: You don't say? I don't suppose you'd care to settle up that gigantic tab of yours first?
LEO: Uh, gee. I don't have much cash on me ...
Mavis: Well, ain't that just so *convenient?* Don't sweat it, hon. I'm a reasonable businesswoman. [To the other woman:] Ma, get out the jumper cables. Ol' Deputy Dimbulb's gonna do a li'l interpretive dancin' for us.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreiat2q4clvy7wams7v3nnzo462yudpt66znqq2hvpbfxpn3pwgmoru)
![[Black and white image of an elderly woman (who apparently has never moisturized a day in her life) rousing a fully-dressed fellow from his mid-day slumbers.]
Woman: Wake up, you Dickensian dolt! You overslept again!
Fellow: *Ahh!* Oh, mother, it's *you.* What's the idea of getting me up at the crack of noon?
Woman: Y'know, for a choir-master, you're pretty dumb. Go find your nephew Edwin and ask him what he's done with our one remaining mode of transportation.
Fellow: You mean ...
Woman: It's simple enough, even for you. You'll say, "Drood! Where's my carriage?"](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreig237slp6xsx2i3eccwhheu6wmdqpnwhhhan642ojqkdi6oscc43q)
![[Black and white image of a blonde woman staring off into the distance, while conversing with a short, rustic fellow with his hair slicked forward. For the purposes of this desperate attempt at humor, they appear to be in the lobby of an Italian hotel.]
Woman: Geppetto, is it? Will you please take my luggage up to Room 23. *Wait!* That *music!* Where is it coming from?
Geppetto: From the courtyard. It is but the traditional music of our people, Signora.
Woman: Ah! It's so beautiful!
Geppetto: You think so? Maybe you ought to get out more. I hear that travel can be broadening.
Woman: Those haunting strains ...
Geppetto: That's nothing. Wait 'til you hear me trying to hoist that steamer trunk of yours.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreigrmjkikmhhqmbp37zhbltvkvihzwrib7yentgv52rorrbr3ugrsy)
![[A tense scene on a shadowy stairwell: two punks have their large-ish handguns drawn on a thin fellow (who has an unfortunate moustache), and his girlfriend, who wears a slinky black dress.]
1st Punk: That's enough stalling, Carl. We want some answers and we want 'em *now.*
Sylvia: Just so you fellas know, our relationship is kind of open-ended, so don't feel obliged to--
Carl: That's fine, Sylvia. Just throw me under the bus at the first *hint* of trouble.
2nd Punk: Hey, if we're gonna be here a while, where's the dang light switch?](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreiftxlrd6u4f34qd6zp6sdxee4mkh24skauiudaxrnozom5r5tr43i)
![[Black and white image of a blonde woman (Gloria Grahame) seated on a massage table, wearing only a sheet, addressing an older woman in a uniform.]
Gloria: Ah, goddammit ... I'm stuck with "The Malmö Mangler" again.
Masseuse: Americans! So coddled you are, but so tense! Is no picnic for me, either, trying to keep your trapezius from fusing to your spine altogether.
Gloria: Look, instead of beating *me* to a pulp, shouldn't you be turning a reindeer into meatballs or something?
Masseuse: Hey, what I do on the weekends is *my* business! Now let's get cracking.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreidubxrldpwu4syytbuftqz2zbcbjopktlzcwwnsj3a4stxg2by5ra)
![[In a book-lined office, a man in a suit and tie sits at a desk reading from a piece of paper as his wife looks on.]
Harold: ... so then the doctor says, "Walking where? To restaurants?" Heh-heh.
Angela: Mm-hmm. That's one's almost kind of funny.
Harold: You know, you could try to be a little more supportive, Angela. It's my dream to be taken seriously as a humorist.
Angela: Jesus, Harold. Can you even *hear* yourself right now?](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:buke6ob4tlr7yxhplfp436kc/bafkreigd456zo3pr5foobrwoqthmzdxwyo6tjfgn66k3liq347cepgyfru)
