Yeah. Everything seems like nothing to me now against I want you in my bed. I don’t care if I burn in hell. I don’t care if you burn in hell. The Past and the Future is a joke to me now. I see that they’re nothin’. I see they ain’t here. The only thing that’s here is you and me…Come upstairs. I don’t care why you come. No, that’s not what I mean. Loretta, I love you. Not, not like they told you love is and I didn’t know this either. But love don’t make things nice, it ruins everything! It breaks your heart, it makes things a mess. We, we aren’t here to make things perfect. Snowflakes are perfect, stars are perfect. Not us! Not us! We are here to ruin ourselves and, and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and, and die! I mean that the storybooks are bullshit. Now I want you to come upstairs with me and, and get in my bed. Come on, come on, come on.
John Patrick Shanley Monologues
Mr. Waturi, Frank. I quit….I’ve been working here four and a half years. The work I did I probably could have done in six months. That leaves four years left over. Four years. If I had them now, like gold in my hand. Here, this is for you. Goodbye, DeDe. This life. Life, what a joke! This situation, this room. You look terrible, Mr. Waturi. You look like a bag of shit stuffed in a cheap suit. Not that anybody could look good under these zombie lights. I can feel them sucking the juice out of my eyeballs. Suck suck suck suck suck. $300 bucks a week. That’s the news. For $300 bucks a week, I’ve lived in this sink, this used rubber. … Don’t you think I know that, Frank? Don’t you think I’m aware that there is a woman here? I can smell her, like a flower. I can taste her like sugar on my tongue. When I’m 20 feet away, I can hear the fabric of her dress when she moves in her chair. Not that I’ve done anything about it. I’ve gone all day, every day, not doing, not saying, not taking the chance, for $300 dollars a week. And Frank, the coffee, it stinks. It tastes like arsenic. These lights give me a headache. If they don’t give you a headache, you must be dead, so let’s arrange the funeral. You’re not tellin’ me nothin’. Why, I ask myself, why have I put up with you, I can’t imagine. But I know. It’s fear. Yellow freakin’ fear. I’ve been too chickenshit afraid to live my life, so I sold it to you for $300 freakin’ dollars a week! You are lucky I don’t kill you! You’re lucky I don’t rip your freakin’ throat out! But I’m not going to! And maybe you’re not so lucky at that. ‘Cause I’m gonna leave you here, Mr. Wahoo Waturi. And what could be worse than that? … DeDe?… How about dinner tonight?
You accept what you got to accept and you work with it. … Well he’s got to be somewhere, maybe he’s doin’ some good too … Well maybe some of them boys want to get caught. … That’s why his father beat him. Not the wine. … I’m talkin’ about the boy’s nature, nun. Not anything he’s done. You can’t hold a child responsible for what God gave him to be. … But then there’s the boy’s nature … Forget it then. Forcing people to say things. My boy came to your school ‘cause they were gonna kill him in the public schools. His father don’t like him. He come to your school, kids don’t like him. One man is good to him, this priest. And does a man have his reasons? Yes. Everybody does. You have your reasons but, do I ask the man why he’s good to my son? No. I don’t care why. My son needs some man to care about him. And to see him through the way he wants to go. And thank God this educated man, with some kindness in him, wants to do just that.