Brick: Phew! Done. You know, there's an expression that writers hate writing but love having written, and, boy, do I get that now. Would you like to hear it?
Frankie: Of course...
Axl: Not.
Brick: [clears throat] "As his eyes fluttered open, the boy saw the sun had already gently nudged awake its captives, yesterday's mistakes vanished to wispy nothings, and the father he thought long dead was standing at his door." Well? What do you think?
Frankie: Wha... That's awesome, Brick.
Axl: You wrote that?
Frankie: Keep going.
Brick: What do you mean?
Axl: Keep reading. What happens next?
Brick: Oh, that's all I got.
Axl: Oh, my God. You write nonstop for days, and you only got one sentence? I can write like a whole 10-page paper in 5 minutes... 3 if you don't care how good it is.
Frankie: Axl, he's gonna do more. You're gonna do more, right, Brick?
Brick: What are you, my editor?