Sunset Boulevard

He was hard at work in Bel Air,
making with the golf sticks.

You need $300? Of course I could
give you $300, only I'm not going to.

- No?
- I'm not just your agent.

- It's not the 10%. I'm your friend.
- You are?

The finest things have been
written on an empty stomach.

Once your talent gets into that
Mocambo-Romanoff rut, you're through.

Forget that! It's a car I'm talking
about. Losing it is like losing my legs.

Greatest thing that could happen.
Now you'll have to sit down and write.

What do you think I've been doing?
I need $300.

Sweetheart, maybe what
you need is another agent.

As I drove back towards town,
I took inventory of my prospects.

They now added up to exactly zero.
I just didn't have what it takes.

The time had come to wrap up
the Hollywood deal and go home.

Maybe if I hocked all my junk, there'd
be enough for a ticket back to Ohio,

to that $35-a-week job at the copy
desk of the "Dayton Evening Post",

if it was still open, back
to the smirking delight of the office.

All right, why don't you
take a crack at Hollywood?

Maybe you think you could...