i wanna tell you a story. ain't got no characters in it but me. i wanna sing you a sad song. most of it i don't expect you to believe. it starts off just the whiskey and wine, miles of travel and some real good times. but it ends in a dark corridor, and there ain't no windows and there ain't no doors.
[Not quite sure what to make of those words, he turns to her with an arched eyebrow and the usual scowl firmly in place.]
Whaddya mean by that? [The most obvious possibility (in his mind, that is) suddenly occurs to him.] ....I already know I'm useless, ya don't gotta rub it in.
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Whaddya mean by that? [The most obvious possibility (in his mind, that is) suddenly occurs to him.] ....I already know I'm useless, ya don't gotta rub it in.