Sorry, Michael. Not so fast, Jeff. I have to add:
Scene. Interior- Art Gallery. A man stares at an attractive woman who is staring at a painting.
Me: That's quite a lovely Jackson Pollock, isn't it?
Woman: Yes, it is.
Me: What does it say to you?
Woman: It restates the negativeness of the universe. The hideous lonely emptiness of existence. Nothingness. The predicament of man forced to live in a barren, godless eternity like a tiny flame flickering in an immense void with nothing but waste, horror, and degradation, forming a useless, bleak straitjacket in a black, absurd cosmos.
Me: What are you doing Saturday night?
Woman: Committing suicide.
Me: (pause) What about Friday night?