Sam: Guys, did you hear that? Mr. Cavett's gonna help me get my life story published. Diane, did you-
Diane: The man was just starting to fall under the thrall of my poetry when you distracted him with your own miserable life.
Sam: Sweetheart, it wasn't anything like that. It was his idea.
Diane: Well, it's still ridiculous. Sam, the written word is very special to me. To you, it's nothing more than a means of finding the men's room.
Sam: Whoa, whoa, come on. I wrote pretty good in high school.
Diane: You didn't write "pretty good". You wrote pretty well.
Coach: Gee, I wish she'd make up her mind.
Sam: Wait a second. I got an idea. You're a pretty good... well writer. Why don't you- Listen, why don't you help me write this thing? Please?