3/2/91
~~Warm, afternoon~~
The Straight Man
The character actor
sits alone, ~~in his dressing room,~~ ~~behind~~,
m_sturbating, a piece
Saran-wrap is spread
out across his lap
and part of the sofa,
he doesn’t want to
leave a stain.
“Goddamn leading man,”
he says as he spurts,
“He even gets the ugly
ones, like he’s the only
man ~~out~~ on earth.”
He carefully folds up
the Saran wrap and
sets it down inside the
waste paper basket, beneath
the newspaper and orange
peels.
He takes a shot from a
shot glass and returns
the whisky bottle to its
drawer.
Character actor was not
an ugly man.
On the contrary, he was
very funny. All the
pretty showgirls cackled at
his innumerable one-liners,
cast off like crafty fisherman’s
lines.
He had a funny face,
too. But not in any
negative way, he just
funny in a cute, reassuring
way. He had a ~~scarlet~~, forthright,
~~bulbous~~ bulbous nose,
puppy cheeks, and large
red lips that often curved
themselves into smiles
of infectious glee.
“So why can’t I get
no dames,” he thought.
But of course, he knew.
Got ~~was~~ just one man,
Dashiel West ~~Artie Carney~~, the straight
man, the leading man.
He was damnably
handsome, had the
~~smooth, Chester,~~ G.I.,
sloping forehead of European
royalty. Suave and
precise, each word that
escaped his lips was
like a dart, hit the
bullseye, smooth artifice.
It was a movie set,
the most movie
Hollywood in
T. There were
Artie Carney – the character actor
Dashiel West – leading man –
straight man in comedy team,
had in USO in WWII, auto race
took his life, but saved A.
kept id of
“I’m the f_ckin’ adorable
one, Dash, it ain’t fair”
“Grow up Artie, you’re six
~~years older than~~”
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