Frank: I got my first kiss there. (stares off into the distance) Therapist: Frank? Frank (breaks down into tears): It was terrible. But not her. She was an angel. Always smiling... that's because she had no lips. But her mouth was still very much in play. Therapist: Let's talk about the dishes. Frank: She died two weeks later. She thought she was a spaceman with a plastic bag for a helmet.
Frank: I opened up to a therapist just once. I was a kid. I got into a fight. The doctor asked me question after question, got me so scrambled up. Next thing I know, I was shanghai'd upstate to a nitwit school. You know what a nitwit school is? Therapist: I assume you mean a school for the mentally disabled. Frank (spits pistachio shell): Yeah, not just for nuts in the head, but bodies, too. Back then science was real crude, they stuck us all together. My roommate was a frog-kid. You ever see a frog-kid?