“It proves you like big titties.”

“It doesn’t prove that big titties are important.”

“I say this. I say you could maybe, at least for thirty minutes, like a woman you didn’t really like long as she had big titties and was willin’ to shuck drawers. Am I right?”

“Leonard…”

“Am I right?”

“I don’t think I’m that shallow.”

“Let’s say you’re in the mood, and she’s in the mood, and she hasn’t got visible scars or oozing sores, and she looks pretty good and she’s got them big titties. We’re not talkin’ marriage here, or takin’ advantage. We’re talkin’ she’s willin’ and she’s not too damn smart-”

“Whoa!”

“Just listen. Say, she’s got like an IQ of, oh, I don’t know. We won’t put her in like some kind of home for folks can’t figure left from right, but let’s say we’re talkin’ someone’s not gonna challenge Einstein in the smart department.”

“That’s most of us.”

“All right. You get that one. Say, she’s not any smarter than, say, a postal worker. You know, ones at the counter with their mouth open, always put up a sign says NEXT WINDOW when you walk up to their slot.”

“I can see that.”

“Say, she’s, you know, that kind of dumb. And she’s willin’. Let’s even say she ain’t the best-lookin’ thing. I don’t mean she’s got her nose on the back of her head. She doesn’t scare people. But she’s got this shape, and them big ol’ titties. She wants you to throw her the sausage. Now, you’re tellin’ me, even if she ain’t so pretty, and not so smart, she wanted you, you wouldn’t fuck her?”

“All right, I might.”

“Might, hell. You’d be on that stuff like a duck on a June bug.”

“But I might do it if she didn’t have big breasts. I mean, she’s pleasant-looking enough.”

“Then you’re sayin’ you’d bang anything?”

“I’m not sayin’ that.”

“All right, you’re not sayin’ that, then you’re sayin’ you like big titties.”