wiseau

From The Disaster Artist, by Greg Sestero:

Before running the scene one final time, Tommy wanted to talk to the flower shop owner about her dog. “So cute,” he said, as he petted the dog. “Hopefully he doesn’t bite me, my God.”

I think the owner somehow misinterpreted this as Tommy wanting the dog out of the next take. “Well,” she said, “he’s actually really old now. He just sits around. He won’t bother anyone. He kind of rules over this counter.”

Tommy nodded, smiling, still gazing down at the motionless little dog. “So is it real thing?”

The flower shop owner looked at Tommy uncertainly. “I’m sorry?” she said, after a moment.

“Your dog,” Tommy said, unfazed. “Is it real thing?”

The woman kept looking at Tommy, probably trying to figure out whether this man who’d taken over her store was really asking if her dog was real. Did Tommy think it was a robot? An android pug of some kind?

“Yes,” the woman said finally. “My dog is a real thing.”