Martini's Best Friend

"You hit my best friend! Get out!"

"All right, I'm goin'!"

"Mr. Bailey, you OK?"

"Who was that?"

"Mr. Welch. But don't worry, he don't come in this place no more!"

"Hey, what was that you said just now?"

"Mr. Welch, he no welcome here no—"

"No, I mean, you, uh... you called me your best friend."

"Yes! Mr. Welch hit my best friend, Mr. George Bailey!"

"You think we're best friends?"

"Yes! Well... Well, I just—"

"Since when are we best friends? For how long?"

"Well... for years, Mr. Bailey!"

"That's news to me. And why, because my company built you a house?"

"Yes, you build me a house! You build me house, you come here to drink, you... you, uh... uh..."

"Yeah, see now, Mr. Martini, you can't even name more than those two things. I come in here from time to time to get a drink or two. And I built you a house—well, not even me, really, my company did. And come to think of it, you haven't even had Mary and me over since we handed you the keys!"

"Look, Mr. Bailey, I-I-I-I get something for your face, it's bleeding."

"And that's another thing! What kind of best friends call each other 'Mister'? Mr. Bailey, Mr. Martini, these are not common salutations between best friends."

"Why you do this to me, Mr. Bailey? It's Christmas!"

"Yeah, George, take it easy will ya?"

"Stay outta this, Nick!"

"OK, OK. Yeesh."

"Look, Mr. Martini, you're a swell guy, I know that, heck, everyone knows that. But you can't throw the words 'best friend' around in reference to whomever you want just because we're friendly. Now, do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"Yes, yes, Mr. Bailey, I do. I... I..."

"Yes, Mr. Martini? Yes? What is it?"

"I wish I'd never been born!"

"Ha ha, here we go again!"