Section 2
I was, uh, one of the authors of the Port Huron Statement —The original Port Huron Statement. Not the compromised second draft. It's a complicated case, Maude. Lotta ins, lotta outs, lotta what-have-yous. It increases the chances of conception. The Knutsens. It's a wandering daughter job. Bunny Lebowski, man. Her real name is Fawn Knutsen. Her parents want her back. Dude, please!… Is this your homework, Larry?
A fifteen-year-old? Is this your idea of a joke? Sir, this is a mortuary, not a rental house. No, the, uh, police chief of Malibu. A real reactionary. I just want to say, sir, that we're both enormous—on a personal level. Goodnight, sweet prince. Dieter has been on the fringes of —well, of everything in L.A., for about twenty years. Look at my LP's. Under 'Autobahn.'.
You make everything a fucking travesty! Three thousand years of beautiful tradition, from Moses to Sandy Koufax —YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT I LIVE IN THE PAST! Hello! Do you speak English? Parla usted Inglese? I'll say it again. Did I urinate on your rug? Walter, come off it. You're not even fucking Jewish. You're fucking Polish Catholic. Hey, relax man, I'm a brother shamus. Blow on them.
I don't know about you, but I take comfort in that. It's good knowin' he's out there, the Dude, takin' her easy for all us sinners. Shit. I sure hope he makes The finals. Welp, that about does her, wraps her all up. Things seem to've worked out pretty good for the Dude'n Walter, and it was a purt good story, dontcha think? Made me laugh to beat the band. Parts, anyway. Course—I didn't like seein' Donny go. But then, happen to know that there's a little Lebowski on the way. I guess that's the way the whole durned human comedy keeps perpetuatin' itself, down through the generations, westward the wagons, across the sands a time until— aw, look at me, I'm ramblin' again. Wal, uh hope you folks enjoyed yourselves.
You might fool the fucks in the league office, but you don't fool Jesus! Let me tell you something, pendejo. You pull any your crazy shit with us, you flash a piece out on the lanes, I'll take it away from you and stick it up your ass and pull the fucking trigger til it goes "click". HERE'S WHAT HAPPENS, LARRY! The nail polish, Walter. Mr. Lebowski asked me to repeat that: Her life is in your hands.
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