MITCH: So? What do you think?

BOB: Its lovely- don’t get me wrong. I just- I mean- its- I just- it doesn’t really look like my daughter.

MITCH: Bob, be real here. Its a bronze sculpture. Its not going to look exactly like anyone. But its got all the parts- eyes, hair, etc. I think its great.

BOB: Well, why is she on a turtle?

MITCH: She’s on a turtle who’s in turn, on a wave. I’m really proud of that. The turtle is doing its thing. And then your daughter… Its like she’s saying “I can do anything! Ride the turtle!” Kids say that shit all the time.

BOB: Really? I’ve never heard Lucy say that.

MITCH: Who the fuck’s Lucy?

Bob: My daughter.

MITCH: Oh right. Well, she doesn’t have to say it. They just think it. They love riding turtles. If she doesn’t, its because you’re holding her back.

BOB: Listen, Mitch, we’re friends, but I’m really not happy with this. Could you just take her off the turtle and maybe give her longer hair?

MITCH: Uh no. This isn’t fucking Play-Doh, Bob. This is fucking BRONZE. And it took me three months slaving over a hot bronze oven to make! Now you’re telling me to go fuck myself? I already spent the money to feed my goats, so I’ll have to pay you back in my goats or something. I guess you could take my car, you evil son of a bitch. You know what? Take my wedding ring. Here. Luckily Marge is in Heaven and won’t be devastated to find out I had to give my asshole ex-friend my wedding ring because my best statue WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH.

BOB: Jesus, Mitch. I didn’t say you had to pay me back! Hey… its a great statue. I’m sure Lu will love it.

MITCH: Great! That’s great news, buddy. I’ll have Manuel help you load it up. See you next week at poker?

BOB: You bet.

MITCH: Hey- just one more thing. Who the fuck is Lu?

BOB: Lucy.

MITCH:…

BOB: My daughter

MITCH: ….