Satan Wraps
1990-03-02
The Straight Man, the character actor sits alone, masturbating, 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 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 forthright, 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 just one man, Dashiel West, the straight man, the leading man.
He was damnably handsome, had the 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.
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!"