conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a plot for a story about Falco, Susan, Hunsecker entitled Sweet Smell of Success.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Sweet Smell of Success: Manhattan press agent Sidney Falco (Tony Curtis) has been unable to gain mentions for his clients inJ.\nHunsecker's (Burt Lancaster) influential, nationally syndicated newspaper column of late because of Falco's failure to make good on a promise to break up the romance between Hunsecker's younger sister Susan (Susan Harrison) and musician Steve Dallas (Martin Milner), an up-and-coming jazz guitarist.\nFalco is losing money and clients.\nGiven one last chance by the bullying, intimidating Hunsecker, he schemes to plant a false rumor in a rival column that Dallas is a dope-smoking Communist, then encourages Hunsecker to rescue Dallas's reputation, certain that the headstrong boyfriend will reject Hunsecker's favor and end up looking bad to Susan.\nThe plan works, in a way—Dallas can't resist insulting Hunsecker's methods, and, forced to choose between them, the timid Susan breaks up with Dallas in order to protect him from her brother.\nHunsecker, however, is enraged by Dallas's insults to him after a brief confrontation.\nHe decides to ruin the boy after all (against Falco's advice) and wants to have marijuana planted on the musician, then have him arrested and roughed up by corrupt police lt Harry Kello (Emile Meyer).\nIt is such a dirty trick that even Falco wants no part of it, at least until Hunsecker promises to take a long vacation from his powerful column and turn it over to Falco in his absence.\nAt a nightclub, Falco slips the marijuana cigarettes into a pocket of a coat belonging to Dallas, who is accosted by Kello outside the club.\nHe grabs her just as her brother walks in, but Hunsecker, encouraged by Susan's silence, accuses Falco of trying to assault Susan and begins beating the physically weaker Falco.\nFalco pleads that he only came to the apartment at Hunsecker's request, prompting Hunsecker to tell Falco that he never called him.\nAs Susan stops Hunsecker from further harming him, Falco realizes that Susan placed the call in order to bring the men to blows.\nIn a climactic confrontation, Falco reveals to Susan that it was her brother who ordered him to destroy Dallas's reputation and their relationship.\nHunsecker makes a call to Kello to come after Falco, who tries to flee but is caught in Times Square by the brutal cop.\nBack in the penthouse, Susan, her bags packed, acknowledges to her brother that she attempted suicide, considering death preferable to living with him.\nShe walks out on him, saying that she will go to Dallas and tells Hunsecker that she pities rather than hates him.\nA mortifiedJ.\nlooks at his sister from his apartment, as she walks out into the daylight.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about \nFalco, Hunsecker's, Susan, summoned.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Sweet Smell of Success: Manhattan press agent Sidney Falco (Tony Curtis) has been unable to gain mentions for his clients inJ. \nHunsecker's (Burt Lancaster) influential, nationally syndicated newspaper column of late because of Falco's failure to make good on a promise to break up the romance between Hunsecker's younger sister Susan (Susan Harrison) and musician Steve Dallas (Martin Milner), an up-and-coming jazz guitarist. \nFalco is losing money and clients. \nGiven one last chance by the bullying, intimidating Hunsecker, he schemes to plant a false rumor in a rival column that Dallas is a dope-smoking Communist, then encourages Hunsecker to rescue Dallas's reputation, certain that the headstrong boyfriend will reject Hunsecker's favor and end up looking bad to Susan. \nThe plan works, in a way—Dallas can't resist insulting Hunsecker's methods, and, forced to choose between them, the timid Susan breaks up with Dallas in order to protect him from her brother. \nHunsecker, however, is enraged by Dallas's insults to him after a brief confrontation. \nHe decides to ruin the boy after all (against Falco's advice) and wants to have marijuana planted on the musician, then have him arrested and roughed up by corrupt police lt Harry Kello (Emile Meyer). \nIt is such a dirty trick that even Falco wants no part of it, at least until Hunsecker promises to take a long vacation from his powerful column and turn it over to Falco in his absence. \nAt a nightclub, Falco slips the marijuana cigarettes into a pocket of a coat belonging to Dallas, who is accosted by Kello outside the club. \nFalco is summoned to Hunsecker's penthouse apartment, only to find Susan there by herself and about to attempt suicide. \nHe grabs her just as her brother walks in, but Hunsecker, encouraged by Susan's silence, accuses Falco of trying to assault Susan and begins beating the physically weaker Falco. \nFalco pleads that he only came to the apartment at Hunsecker's request, prompting Hunsecker to tell Falco that he never called him. \nAs Susan stops Hunsecker from further harming him, Falco realizes that Susan placed the call in order to bring the men to blows. \nIn a climactic confrontation, Falco reveals to Susan that it was her brother who ordered him to destroy Dallas's reputation and their relationship. \nHunsecker makes a call to Kello to come after Falco, who tries to flee but is caught in Times Square by the brutal cop. \nBack in the penthouse, Susan, her bags packed, acknowledges to her brother that she attempted suicide, considering death preferable to living with him. \nShe walks out on him, saying that she will go to Dallas and tells Hunsecker that she pities rather than hates him. \nA mortifiedJ. \nlooks at his sister from his apartment, as she walks out into the daylight.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this story.. Start with the sentence 'Sweet Smell of Success
  As I went up in the elevator to the nineteenth floor, old fears began to gnaw at my insides, prodded by bitter memories'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Sweet Smell of Success
  As I went up in the elevator to the nineteenth floor, old fears began to gnaw at my insides, prodded by bitter memories.
  I walked into the huge, thickly carpeted show place that Hunsecker called a living room, past the statuettes and golfing trophies that stood on the table in silent tribute to the man's self-love, and I sank exhausted into the green club chair. The lights were dim. The Capehart in the corner was playing softly, and as I sat there gazing at the portrait of Hunsecker on the wall, my eyes slowly closed, and I allowed the soothing music and the muted sounds of the city and the rich, sweet smell of success that permeated the room to lull my senses. I breathed the smell deeply, memorizing the scent, and then all at once I became aware of other sounds, other perfumes, and I turned, startled, as I heard her saying quietly, "You're early, Sidney."
  In the half light, it seemed as though she had too much powder on her face, and her eyes looked strange, as though she might have been crying, or drinking, and I had the feeling suddenly that she was watching me too intently.
  I looked at my watch. Quarter to two. Much too early. I had been too eager, that was the trouble. Without meaning to, I had already started to press. I had arrived early, and the minutes were going to be knives of torment. I looked up, staring at the face on the wall. It had been captured on canvas by an artist who had managed to see only the strength and none of the weakness. It was the face of the man who had won power and fortune, not of the man who had summoned me to this room tonight because he felt unable to face his sister alone.
  I turned to her. "Okay," I said, "I'm looking at you." I held her gaze for a moment, and then I had to drop my eyes. "You look cool," I said.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I hung up and went to the dresser and poured myself a half tumbler of scotch, letting the whiskey heat up my optimism even more.
  I hung up slowly. My brain was fuzzy. Too much scotch. A hard day, not enough food, too much scotch...
  It was crazy. But so was everything else. What was crazier than a man being on the brink of a one-hundred-grand-a-year success at the very same time that he had run out of talent? Everything was crazy, but you had to play it out as though it all could happen.
  I called the garage and told them to get my car over in a hurry. I went into the bathroom and doused my face with cold water. I fixed my hair, pulled my tie straight, threw on my jacket, grabbed my hat and coat and headed for the elevator. The elevator man gave me a funny look.
  My car was waiting outside. I jumped into it and fought my way through the snarling wolf-pack of cabs, shot west on Fifty-seventh, then onto the West Side Highway and I was in the clear. The night air was fresh and cold. The car liked it, and purred along at sixty.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The car liked it, and purred along at sixty.. The night air was fresh and cold. I jumped into it and fought my way through the snarling wolf-pack of cabs, shot west on Fifty-seventh, then onto the West Side Highway and I was in the clear.
  My car was waiting outside. The elevator man gave me a funny look. I fixed my hair, pulled my tie straight, threw on my jacket, grabbed my hat and coat and headed for the elevator. I went into the bathroom and doused my face with cold water.
  I called the garage and told them to get my car over in a hurry. What was crazier than a man being on the brink of a one-hundred-grand-a-year success at the very same time that he had run out of talent? Everything was crazy, but you had to play it out as though it all could happen. But so was everything else.
  It was crazy... A hard day, not enough food, too much scotch. Too much scotch. My brain was fuzzy.
  I hung up slowly.I hung up and went to the dresser and poured myself a half tumbler of scotch, letting the whiskey heat up my optimism even more
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I put the paper down and beckoned for her to come closer. "That column material I gave you for Bartha... shoot it over to him as soon as you get it typed up."
  Suddenly I was unbearably tired... tired of the week that lay ahead and tired of all the weeks like it that lay in the unforgettable past. I sat there wanting sleep the way an alcoholic craves the whisky he cannot have. But then my eyes fell on the telegram that was still on the desk, the one that said: "It's the little things that count, tootsie," and I rubbed the weariness from my face with practiced skill. I picked up the private telephone at my elbow and dialed Thelma Lance.
  I didn't say anything. I glanced at the shine on my shoes. I stared at the buildings across the street. I looked at the telegram on my desk. Finally I had to say some thing. I said, "When?"
  I took the telegram from the desk and I crumpled it into a ball and hurled it at the wastebasket as hard as I could. It bounced off and fell to the floor. I didn't bother to pick it up. I went to the door.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I put the paper down and beckoned for her to come closer. "That column material I gave you for Bartha... shoot it over to him as soon as you get it typed up."
  Suddenly I was unbearably tired... tired of the week that lay ahead and tired of all the weeks like it that lay in the unforgettable past. I sat there wanting sleep the way an alcoholic craves the whisky he cannot have. But then my eyes fell on the telegram that was still on the desk, the one that said: "It's the little things that count, tootsie," and I rubbed the weariness from my face with practiced skill. I picked up the private telephone at my elbow and dialed Thelma Lance.
  I didn't say anything. I glanced at the shine on my shoes. I stared at the buildings across the street. I looked at the telegram on my desk. Finally I had to say some thing. I said, "When?"
  I took the telegram from the desk and I crumpled it into a ball and hurled it at the wastebasket as hard as I could. It bounced off and fell to the floor. I didn't bother to pick it up.