Boatyard Woman: Guys who drink Kahlua and cream are not power guys, honey.
Tripp: So what do we do now?
Paula: Actually, it's... it's quite simple. You just have to decide. Do you want to spend the rest of your life having fun or do you want to spend it with me?
Tripp: Hmm.
Paula: Shut up! Not everything you say is perfect.
Tripp: We can have a little bit of fun, can't we? Huh?
Paula: Nothing like the threat of decapitation to make it a little more interesting.
Tripp: Hey, Pop?
Al: Hey! Tripp. What are you doing here?
Tripp: Just came by to get some stuff. What... what are you doing?
Al: Feeding my fish.
Tripp: Yeah. I see that. You're naked. In my room.
Al: Well, this is my Naked Room. I mean, it's my house. A man ought to be able to do whatever he wants to do in his own house. Wore a suit for forty years.
Tripp: So now we got forty years of.
Al: No suit.
Tripp: No suit. All right. I'm gonna let you get back to feeding your fish.
Tripp: All right, assuming that pretending to own a yacht was a brilliant, romantic yet ultimately flawed idea, how do you see the rest of the day playing out?
Paula: I don't know. I'm so hungry, I can't think. Seagulls ate my lunch.
Tripp: What if I took you to a restaurant?
Paula: Are you gonna pretend to own it?
Tripp: No. All the restaurants I own are in Europe.
Jeffrey: My teacher Miss Kramer has a girlfriend.
Paula: Oh, that's nice.
Jeffrey: She's a lesbian.
Tripp: It's over. She gotta go.
Ace: You're dumping Paula?
Demo: What happened?
Tripp: Same thing that always happens. Everything is going along nice and smooth, we're having a good time, and all of a sudden, out of nowhere - whoap! - she gets serious. I hate to say it, boys, but it is time to take the girl home.
Demo: What are you gonna do now?
Tripp: I don't know. I'm in unchartered waters here, boys.
Tripp: Let's go shoot some strangers, huh?
Tripp: Do you have real feelings?
Paula: Of course I have real feelings.
Tripp: For what?
Paula: For you! And believe me, I did not want that because I had a good life before you. Well, not good... but... it was okay. Well, it... it was empty, actually, but at least I was blissfully unaware of how miserable I was. Whereas now... because of you... I am acutely aware of how completely and totally unhappy I am. Thank you for that.
Answer: It's called "Not Bad at All" by Steven McDonald.
Myridon