Actually, we don’t do that here. This is an installation art piece. – This coffee table?
– Yes. We don’t put drinks on it. – Five hundred thousand? – He can read! Congratulations. – What?
– I’m sorry, are you in the right place? Or not? I’m… – Terry.
– Does he… Okay. – Well…
– Sorry. Terry! What are you doing here? – I want to be with you.
– No, Terry, that’s not gonna happen. You know where you belong.
On top of me in the Poconos. Instead, you’re here
selling dirty coffee tables? I mean, look at this. This is nonsense! Terry, this is an original Haverfield-Jameson. The chaos of the coffee table?
It represents our fractured egos. You think I don’t know
about this artsy-fartsy crap? This coffee table isn’t the ego. It represents
our shattered sense of community in the face of capitalist-driven isolation.
Looks like the work of Cindy Sherman
or Frank Stella. How did you know that, Terry? I took some classes at RISD so I could make fun of these lame artsy
douches in my neighborhood. – Terry, lower your voice!
– I don’t have to lower my voice. – Is this man bothering you?
– Are you actually having sex with this creep? Terry, he’s gay. Okay? He’s even wearing a T-shirt that says,
All right? And also, he is my boss. Happy for you, man. Good.
Can you get out of here now?
I’m talking to my lady. Mr. Reger, everything is fine.
Terry is actually leaving now. Nice toot, sailor. Terry, what are you doing? Look, I waited three years
for you to be more than a cop, okay? Just give me one more year. Terry, you don’t get another year. I’m done. Fine. – Terry, don’t touch that! Terry!
– Oh, my God! I don’t need this shit. I don’t need you!
And when you call me, I’m not coming back! I’ll burn this bitch down to the ground! Stop critiquing me, okay?
I’m a human being! I’m not a piece of art! I’m a peacock flying into a rainbow!