(The characters appear as they do in the original movie)
A short time after Gatsby and Daisy's "unfortunate accident" outside of Wilson's garage, Nick and Gatsby sat outside of Gatsby's house by the pool. They casually conversed, admiring the fine, late-summer day and the symbolic implications it had.
"Summer's almost over...doesn't it make you want to reach out and grab it, just to hold it back? I mean, don't you just want to tie your foot to it and be violently dragged through the street, attached to the speeding truck of summer? Really, old sport, don't you just want to attach yourself to summer like a lamprey attaching to its prey, sucking the very life out of it to sustain yourself...old sport?" mused Gatsby.
"...There will be other summers..." Nick, slightly confused, replied.
"Of course."
A drop of rain fell from the sky and made a slight ripple in the calm water of the pool. A low hiss resonated from the water as it hit.
"Did you see that? That was rain, old sport. And strange rain at that. Listen to the sound it makes...is that not the sound of a dream, plunging from heaven and hissing into nonexistence in the blink of an eye?" said Gatsby excitedly.
"I think that's called acid rain...'old sport'..." said Nick, more than a little freaked out now.
"As I said it was."
"Anyway, how was it to see Daisy after all these years? Was she all you expected?" inquired Nick, attempting to change the subject of their annoyingly meaningful surroundings.
"Still the angel I remember her as..." replied Gatsby, with a fog in his eyes.
"You know...what makes you care for Daisy so much?" Nick finally released the question he'd been turning over in his mind for some time.
"Are you kidding, old sport? Daisy is everything I ever wanted...she's...she's-"
'She's kind of annoying." Nick interrupted.
"Well...she does have a certain tendency to-"
"And look at her forehead...no offense, 'old sport', but she looks like she missed a step or two on the evolutionary ladder," Nick interrupted once again, exasperatedly looking in the direction of the billboard with the owl- spectacled man. Sometimes, God made poor casting choices in life.
"But she's Daisy...being with her is my dream..." Gatsby said tearfully, seeing Nick's argument but not wanting to admit it.
"She's ugly, annoying, snobby, and just kind of a bitch. Oh, and by the way, she's pregnant."
At this, Gatsby's common sense finally loosened his nostalgic grip on his fantasy.
"You know what, old sport? You're right. Screw Daisy." Gatsby declared, the glory of revelation evident on his features.
"Let's go pick up chicks down at the bar." said Nick lazily. Now that his argument was won, he reverted back to his boring, uninspiring personality.
"Aight." said Gatsby, matching Nick's mellow tone.
As the two walked towards Gatsby's car, Nick hesitated only once to admire its new paint job and headlights. Finally, thought Nick, an ending to this man's dream that makes sense.
Sometime later, Nick and Gatsby sat on Gatsby's large front porch, drunk. It was a warm, peaceful summer night, with just a hint of sea breeze from the Long Island coast. However, no one seemed to care about the symbolism of this night. That, in itself, was symbolic.
"Ain't it great finally let go of Daisy...?" Nick dazedly asked of his friend.
Gatsby looked at Nick and gave him a lazy eyed, lopsided smile.
"Daisy...what Daisy?"
Review? WHAT REVIEW?!?!
A short time after Gatsby and Daisy's "unfortunate accident" outside of Wilson's garage, Nick and Gatsby sat outside of Gatsby's house by the pool. They casually conversed, admiring the fine, late-summer day and the symbolic implications it had.
"Summer's almost over...doesn't it make you want to reach out and grab it, just to hold it back? I mean, don't you just want to tie your foot to it and be violently dragged through the street, attached to the speeding truck of summer? Really, old sport, don't you just want to attach yourself to summer like a lamprey attaching to its prey, sucking the very life out of it to sustain yourself...old sport?" mused Gatsby.
"...There will be other summers..." Nick, slightly confused, replied.
"Of course."
A drop of rain fell from the sky and made a slight ripple in the calm water of the pool. A low hiss resonated from the water as it hit.
"Did you see that? That was rain, old sport. And strange rain at that. Listen to the sound it makes...is that not the sound of a dream, plunging from heaven and hissing into nonexistence in the blink of an eye?" said Gatsby excitedly.
"I think that's called acid rain...'old sport'..." said Nick, more than a little freaked out now.
"As I said it was."
"Anyway, how was it to see Daisy after all these years? Was she all you expected?" inquired Nick, attempting to change the subject of their annoyingly meaningful surroundings.
"Still the angel I remember her as..." replied Gatsby, with a fog in his eyes.
"You know...what makes you care for Daisy so much?" Nick finally released the question he'd been turning over in his mind for some time.
"Are you kidding, old sport? Daisy is everything I ever wanted...she's...she's-"
'She's kind of annoying." Nick interrupted.
"Well...she does have a certain tendency to-"
"And look at her forehead...no offense, 'old sport', but she looks like she missed a step or two on the evolutionary ladder," Nick interrupted once again, exasperatedly looking in the direction of the billboard with the owl- spectacled man. Sometimes, God made poor casting choices in life.
"But she's Daisy...being with her is my dream..." Gatsby said tearfully, seeing Nick's argument but not wanting to admit it.
"She's ugly, annoying, snobby, and just kind of a bitch. Oh, and by the way, she's pregnant."
At this, Gatsby's common sense finally loosened his nostalgic grip on his fantasy.
"You know what, old sport? You're right. Screw Daisy." Gatsby declared, the glory of revelation evident on his features.
"Let's go pick up chicks down at the bar." said Nick lazily. Now that his argument was won, he reverted back to his boring, uninspiring personality.
"Aight." said Gatsby, matching Nick's mellow tone.
As the two walked towards Gatsby's car, Nick hesitated only once to admire its new paint job and headlights. Finally, thought Nick, an ending to this man's dream that makes sense.
Sometime later, Nick and Gatsby sat on Gatsby's large front porch, drunk. It was a warm, peaceful summer night, with just a hint of sea breeze from the Long Island coast. However, no one seemed to care about the symbolism of this night. That, in itself, was symbolic.
"Ain't it great finally let go of Daisy...?" Nick dazedly asked of his friend.
Gatsby looked at Nick and gave him a lazy eyed, lopsided smile.
"Daisy...what Daisy?"
Review? WHAT REVIEW?!?!
