I'm setting the auto-pilot, but this better not be a ruse. –A ruse? Brring-brring! Hello? Hi, it's the 1930s! Can we have our words and clothes and shitty airplanes back? –Let's go, kid. –Call you back, 1930s, and hey... watch out for that Adolph Hitler. He's a bad egg!
(telephone rings) Hello, the living room of renowned theatrical director Roger De Bris' elegant, upper-East-Side townhouse on a sunny Tuesday afternoon in June. Who may I say is calling? Listen you broken-down old queen, he was drunk, he was hot, you got lucky. Don't ever call here again!