"Who cares who?"
"Mel and I care. We're still trying to find a laugh in that sketch."
"I care on who." Irma raked Ween with her eyes. "Happens he dropped Diggy on me. My head."
Lennox kept his face straight. "Did it get a laugh?"
"Nobody saw. I was behind the set."
"Cuing him from the script," Grabinett sputtered. "He didn't even know his lines."
"If you don't like my boy, you know what you can do," Ween told him.
"There's co-operation for you," Lennox said bitterly. "What does he have to lose, Mel? He's got a network contract for his boy. Two thousand a week guaranteed, work or no work. What does he care about the show?" Lennox looked at Mason sympathetically. "But you ought to care, Mig. It won't do you any good to go off and lose your fans while Tooky collects his ten percent."
"Fifteen," Mason snapped.
"Oh? Three bills a week out of you? For what? Watching? Advising? Protecting? No. 'If you don't like my boy, you know what you can do.' Agents!"