Tight Spot

TV Salesman:
Have you considered what you would look like if you were to go completely bald?

Mrs. Willoughby:
What?

Lloyd Hallett:
Your name please.

Sherry Conley:
Sherry Conley.

Lloyd Hallett:
What is your present address?

Sherry Conley:
Upstate Women's Prison.

Lloyd Hallett:
Occupation?

Sherry Conley:
At present, Gangbuster.

Lloyd Hallett:
What possible difference could it make to you whether you move there or to the city jai?

Sherry Conley:
Because movin' to the city jail is closer to the witness stand which is exactly the last place in the world I've decided I'm gonna be.

Lloyd Hallett:
So that's really it then, isn't it?

Sherry Conley:
Yeah.

Lloyd Hallett:
Doesn't make any difference about the city jail. You've simply decided that as far as you're concerned everybody else can go hang.

Sherry Conley:
You mean I've been keepin' this a secret from ya?

Sherry Conley:
I hope you don't object to a person lookin' out their own window?

Vince Striker:
You'll know right away if I object to anything.

Sherry Conley:
What do you do? Light up?

Sherry Conley:
You ever lay a fat hand on my person again and the prison board'll hear about it before I'm dry!

Sherry Conley:
Certain things in the beginning is more important to know than others. And other things is even more important than that. And one of the most important things in this place is don't volunteer for nothin'!

Sherry Conley:
Like poor dumb sheep we're moved from barn to stall and nobody takes the trouble to tell us why. Its inhuman.

Sherry Conley:
Well, if we're not the real life-size Boston blackies!

Sherry Conley:
I guess maybe these old rags of mine must look like Easter Parade 1902.

Vince Striker:
Look, sister, I wouldn't know styles if you shoved them down my throat.

Sherry Conley:
You sure of that, huh? Why? Because you had so many of them shoved down your throat?

Sherry Conley:
What is it with a cop? Always gotta call you sister!

Vince Striker:
Like mother better?

Lloyd Hallett:
What's she like, Vince?

Vince Striker:
Oh, just like the rest of 'em that come through the line-up. Smart-talkin'. Brassy. Third-class citizen.

Sherry Conley:
Well, here's to the boys in the friendly trenches!

Lloyd Hallett:
Skal!

Sherry Conley:
No, I don't want to talk to the manager. I want to talk to the man that cooks those tastefully gay dinners.

Benjamin Costain:
The money I spend to make sure I got people in all the places where it counts, they can't even find out where they're hiding one lousy dame!

Sherry Conley:
Never mind, peeping John. I made sure there was nothing left over for you to enjoy. Bad as it is in prison, having to share the privacy of your shower with all the other inmates, at least we don't have to put up with being slapped with the fat hands of the police! You've hauled men in for less!

Vince Striker:
You models must lead a gay life for yourselves, heh? Never have to worry about who's gonna pick up the dinner tab.

Sherry Conley:
Hah!

Vince Striker:
It's not a gay life?

Sherry Conley:
What's gay about blistered feet and a bunch of sleazy married guys with ideas that were stale when the Romans was eaten lions?

Vince Striker:
What did you do? Lie about your age?

Sherry Conley:
Who to? They're more interested that you're a real built kid; not how old a real built kid.

Sherry Conley:
He went on and said, eh, "Little girl like you shouldn't be waiting all alone for buses in this big, cold world. I'm gonna introduce you to friend of mine that makes bathing suits." So, I told him why I-I didn't know anything about how to make bathing suits. And he said, eh, " No, little lady, you wouldn't make 'em, you'd wear 'em." Then he went on to explain he didn't mean at beaches but at buyer shows were these, these outta town fellas, like himself, would come to pick up what ever looked good to 'em. And, eh, whatever looks good to these fellas is that old combination of, eh, most girl, least bathing suit, if you know what I mean.

Vince Striker:
Yeah, I think I do.

Sherry Conley:
So, I, got the bathing suit job.

Sherry Conley:
Men - they ought to trade themselves in for somethin' a girl really needs.

Sherry Conley:
I walk out here, with no skirt, and your eyes bang out like you just found some long lost gold mines.

Vince Striker:
You can relax, honey.

Sherry Conley:
Well, thanks, I intend to.

Vince Striker:
'Cause I could come back from ten years alone on the moon, half crazy, and watch you swimming and stripped at the Y for hours and walk out of there with no thoughts in my head except where I could get myself a good meal.

Sherry Conley:
Now, that was a crummy thing to say.

Sherry Conley:
Since when does a woman need a reason for changing her mind?

Lloyd Hallett:
I thought newspaper reporters were supposed to be drunk by this time on Saturday night.

Jim Hornsby:
Just the one's with money.

Vince Striker:
Hey, Willoughby, aren't you afraid that stuff's going to spoil you for real police work?

Mrs. Willoughby:
[Reading pulp fiction novel, "He Stooped To Kill"] The real thing is for six year olds. And the girls in these things, don't they ever get cold?

Vince Striker:
Not those girls.

Mrs. Willoughby:
Want to borrow it tonight?

Vince Striker:
Nah, anything sexier than "Popular Mechanics", I break out in a rash all over.

Sherry Conley:
How come you haven't asked me for a date tonight?

Vince Striker:
Oh, maybe I figured it was Saturday night, you're all tied up.

Sherry Conley:
Or, maybe you just don't like girls.

Vince Striker:
No, I never found anything I like better.