Humble Pie
Noted playwright Arthur Miller was once sitting alone in a restaurant , and approached by a well-tailored, slightly inebriated fellow who addressed him: "Aren't you Arthur Miller?"
Miller replied, "Why, yes, I am, and before he even had a chance to ask the fellow who he was, the man blurted out, "Don't you remember me?"
"'Well . . ." pondered Miller, "your face seems familiar."
"Why, Artie!" exclaimed the fellow, "I'm your old buddy Sam! We went to high school together! We used to hang out together by the soda jerk!"
Miller thought a while hesitantly, "'I think I -" but Sam cut him short. "I guess you can see I've done l right for myself. Sales. Department stores." Sam continued "... and what do you do, Artie?' "Well, I . . . write."
"Write? Whaddya write?"
"Plays, mostly."
"Ever get any produced?"
Miller shrugged, "Some."
"Would I know any?" asked Sam.
Miller paused a moment and hesitantly asked, "Well . . . perhaps you've heard of Death of a Salesman?"
Sam's jaw dropped; his face went white. For a moment he was speechless. Then he cried out, 'Why, you're ARTHUR MILLER!"
Miller replied, "Why, yes, I am, and before he even had a chance to ask the fellow who he was, the man blurted out, "Don't you remember me?"
"'Well . . ." pondered Miller, "your face seems familiar."
"Why, Artie!" exclaimed the fellow, "I'm your old buddy Sam! We went to high school together! We used to hang out together by the soda jerk!"
Miller thought a while hesitantly, "'I think I -" but Sam cut him short. "I guess you can see I've done l right for myself. Sales. Department stores." Sam continued "... and what do you do, Artie?' "Well, I . . . write."
"Write? Whaddya write?"
"Plays, mostly."
"Ever get any produced?"
Miller shrugged, "Some."
"Would I know any?" asked Sam.
Miller paused a moment and hesitantly asked, "Well . . . perhaps you've heard of Death of a Salesman?"
Sam's jaw dropped; his face went white. For a moment he was speechless. Then he cried out, 'Why, you're ARTHUR MILLER!"
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