She’s into Malakas, Dino.
John Hughes Monologues
I’ll bet he bought those for you. I bet those were a Christmas gift. You know what I got for Christmas? Oh, it was a banner fucking year at the old Bender family. I got a carton of cigarettes. The old man grabbed me and said, “Hey, smoke up Johnny.” Alright? So go home and cry to your Daddy. Don’t cry here, okay?
Do you guys know what I did to get in here? I taped Larry Lester’s buns together. Yeah, you know him? Well then, you know how hairy he is, right? Well, when they pulled the tape off, most of his hair came off and some skin too. And the bizarre thing is, is that I did it for my old man. I tortured this poor kid because I wanted him to think I was cool. He’s always going off about, you know, when he was in school, all the wild things he used to do, and I got the feeling that he was disappointed that I never cut loose on anyone, right? So, I’m sitting in the locker room and I’m taping up my knee and Larry’s undressing a couple lockers down from me and he’s kinda, kinda skinny, weak, and I started thinking about my father and his attitude about weakness, and the next thing I knew I, I jumped on top of him and started wailing on him. Then my friends, they just laughed and cheered me on. And afterwards, when I was sitting in Vernon’s office, all I could think about was Larry’s father and Larry having to go home and explain what happened to him. And the humiliation, the fucking humiliation he must have felt. It must have been unreal. I mean, how do you apologize for something like that? There’s no way. It’s all because of me and my old man. God, I fucking hate him. He’s like, he’s like this mindless machine I can’t even relate to anymore. “Andrew, you’ve got to be number one. I won’t tolerate any losers in this family. Your intensity is for shit.” You sonofabitch. You know, sometimes I wish my knee would give and I wouldn’t be able to wrestle anymore. He could forget all about me.
Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole saturday in detention for whatever it is we did wrong, but we think you’re crazy for making us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us, in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out, is that each one of us is a brain, and an athlete, and a basketcase, a princess, and a criminal. Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club.
What’s happening hot stuff?
You’re no saint. You got a free cab, you got a free room and someone who’ll listen to your boring stories. Didn’t you notice on the plane when you started talking, eventually I started reading the vomit bag? Didn’t that give you some sort of clue, like hey maybe this guy is not enjoying it? You know, not everything is an anecdote, you have to discriminate! You choose things that are funny or mildly amusing or interesting. You’re a miracle! Your stories have none of that! They’re not even amusing accidentally! “Honey, I’d like you to meet Del Griffith, he’s got some amusing anecdotes for you! And, oh, here’s a gun so you can blow your brains out, you’ll thank me for it! I could tolerate any insurance seminar. For days, I could sit there, and listen to them go on and on with a big smile on my face. And they’d say, how can you stand it? And I’d say, because I’ve been with Del Griffith, I can take anything. You know what they’d say, they’d say, “I know what you mean, shower curtain ring guy, whoa!” It’s like going on a date with a chatty Cathy doll. I expect you to have a little string on your chest that you pull out and have to snap back. Except I wouldn’t pull it out and snap it back, you would! Ah Ah Ah Ah! And, you know, when you’re telling these little stories, here’s a good idea: have a point. It makes it so much more interesting for the listener!
I want him brought right here, with a big ribbon on his head, and I want to look him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where’s the Tylenol?
I took a shower washing every body part with actual soap; including all my major crevices; including in between my toes and in my belly button which I never did before but sort of enjoyed. I washed my hair with adult formula shampoo and used cream rinse for that just-washed shine. I can’t seem to find my toothbrush, so I’ll pick one up when I go out today. Other than that, I’m in good shape.
Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
You beasts! But I’m not beaten yet. You’ve won the battle, but I’m about to win the wardrobe. My spotty puppy coat is in plain sight and leaving tracks. In a moment I’ll have what I came for, while all of you will end up as sausage meat, alone on some sad, plastic plate. Dead and medium red. No friends, no family, no pulse. Just slapped between two buns, smothered in onions, with fries on the side. Cruella De Vil has the last laugh!