Banky: Since you like chicks, right, do you just look at yourself naked in the mirror all the time?
Collector: Hey man. If somebody draws something
and then you draw the same thing right on top of it, not going out-side the designated original art, what do you call that!
Little kid:I don’t know. Tracing?
Collector:(to Banky) See?
Banky: It’s not tracing.
Collector: Oh, but it is.
Banky:(to Little Kid) Do you want your book signed or what?
Collector: Hey – don’t get all testy with him
just because you have a problem with your station in life.
Banky: I’m secure with what I do.
Collector: Then say it – you’re a tracer.
Banky: I’ve read your book. It’s cute. Chick stuff, but cute.
(Holden hits him)
Holden:(to Alyssa) Sorry about him. He’s dealing with being an inker.
Alyssa:(to Banky) Oh. You trace!
Alyssa: At least you blame yourself for your sexual inadequacies.
Banky: No, I blame them. Chicks never help you out. They never tell you what to do. And most of them are self- conscious about that smell factor, and so most of the time they just lay there, frozen like a deer in the headlights, right? Not for nothing, but when a chick goes down on me. I let her know where to go, and what the status is. You gotta handle it like CNN and the Weather Channel – constant updates.
Alyssa: I read somewhere that guys who play hockey are merely making up for penile deficiencies by carrying big sticks.
Banky: I thought you lived in the city? This is like the umpteenth time I’ve seen you here. Isn’t that grounds enough for the little pink mafia to throw you out of their club?
Banky: This is all going to end badly.
Holden: You don’t know that.
Banky: I know you. You’re way too conservative for that girl. She’s been around and seen things we’ve only read about in books.
Holden: But we have read about them. So we’re prepared.