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In the bat of a Misty eyelash, a straying goldfish becomes a link in the food chain.
"Harvey!" she screams. "Don't let them do it now! HAR-VEE! Don't let them eat those poor goldfish when I'm here! HARRR-VEEEE! You promised!"
"Hey, that's life, Misty," Martin booms. "If I don't feed 'em, someone else will."
Martin hugs her and suddenly remembers something he needs to do in another room. He picks up a plate of strawberries and cheese and circulates to serve them. He empties ashtrays. He struggles to get Damn Yankees wired into his third TV, out on the pool deck. He pours champagne for guests. He kisses girls. He cannot stand still.
Guests keep trying to draw him into conversation. "You're a natural," declares Brian Baldinger, a backup offensive lineman on the Cowboys. "I saw Joe Namath act at Granny's and he was all right, but he was just up there being Joe Namath. You were acting, man."
Too Tall Jones stops him. "Harvey, you're a natural," he says. "You blew me away!"
"I can't believe it," responds Harvey. "My first play in Dallas and it's a hit."
Too Tall is about to expound on the art of Thespianism—having performed in Diff'rent Strokes himself just last year—when Harvey remembers he needs to go out back to turn on the Jacuzzi.
Two girls jump into the pool with their clothes on. Like a six-foot-five whisper, Martin disappears and returns with two women's swimsuits. "If they don't fit," he says, "I've got more."
"Harvey is a smart guy," says Too Tall admiringly.