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220px-Annex_-_Stanwyck,_Barbara_(Stella_Dallas)_01Futuristic looking bar. LAVERNE, a fast-talking dame, leans up against the bar next to PATRICK. 

Laverne   What’s baking there, pansy?

Patrick   Excuse you?

Laverne   Did I stutter? I said, you look like a pansy, baking up some little lie to tell yourself.

Patrick  Was just enjoying my drink.

Laverne   Bullshit, pansy. I’m here to call bullshit.

Patrick  That so?

Laverne  Yes, I’m sick of little girls like you.

Patrick  You don’t know anything about me.

Laverne  I know all I need to know. Pansy cakes, pansy cakes — with your shirt all pressed. Mommy buy a bot girl to press it for ya?

Patrick   I don’t own a bot girl.

Laverne  Sure you don’t. Ya probably lease one, eh? That’s a nice head of hair ya got, too, eh baker?

Patrick   I’m not a baker, but my name is Baker.

Laverne   Sure you are — you bake pansy cakes — a real man would let his hair fall out … but you, what did you drop on that mop, half a year’s pay??

Patrick  This … this is my real hair.

Laverne  Clever. Real clever, pansy cake baker, I’ve heard that line before, where was it — yes, I seem to recall an actor, quite a bit more attractive than you, delivering that line in half the time with twice the authority. You fake, little, shit-a-dumpling-in-your-slacks, pansy-baker-slacker, you.

Patrick  Now listen here …

Laverne   Now listen here?? What, are you ready to stand up for yourself now? Baker, baker, two-by-four, can’t walk through the banker’s door … so he sold himself as a rugyou bug … bar-bot, pour me a drink or bake me a cake, I can’t take this fake.

Here: Baker, Baker …

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