Desperate Living Page #3

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a long day of breakin' laws.

Here. Nice live roaches.

Come on,

eat these f***in' things!

Come on, eat 'em!

Eat 'em, goddamn it!

Eat these things!

Eat these roaches!

Plenty of that

for you, too, honey.

Come on, eat 'em!

Swallow those goddamn things.

Eat 'em!

Now listen to me, riffraff.

Every word I ever utter...

is to be taken as

a direct royal proclamation...

or face death

by the firing squad.

Yes, ma'am.

Ma'am?!

I'm Your Royal Highness...

and I demand that you

address me as such!

Yes, Your Royal Highness.

Let's show them

we're not kidding.

Bring in the prisoner,

Lieutenant Wilson.

Come on, you rotten

son of a b*tch.

You bastard.

Any last words, goon face?

You can lick my royal

hemorrhoids, you fat pig.

Ready, aim, fire!

I advise you to listen

carefully, rubbish.

Royal proclamation number one.

As long as you live

in Mortville...

you must always

consider me your God...

and if you ever

see me on the streets...

fall to your knees and shout,

"I honor you, Queen Carlotta!"

Royal proclamation number two.

You must live here

in constant mortification...

solely existing to bring me

and my tourists...

moments of royal amusement.

I'm not responsible

for your income...

your living conditions,

or your personal happiness.

Have I made myself

perfectly clear?

Yes, Your Royal Majesty.

And you, Mrs. Gravel,

murderess?

You've made yourself

quite clear.

Your...

Your Royal Majesty.

So be it!

Lieutenant Williams,

take them to our ugly expert...

and give them

a complete overhaul...

and when you walk down

the streets of Mortville...

make sure you're dressed

like what you really are... trash!

Remove them!

Come on! We're not through here!

- Get on your feet!

- Come on! Out!

Are my duties of discipline

ever over, Lieutenant Wilson?

Remove me from this contraption.

- I honor you, Queen Carlotta.

- Yes, I know.

Get me into my royal cot

and be quick.

Come on, come on.

I haven't got all day.

Hurry. Come on. Yes.

If it pleases the Queen,

Royal Security has reported...

that the Princess Coo-Coo

has returned to the castle.

She's been out all night again

with that garbage man.

That child of mine'll

be the death of me yet.

- Take me to her chambers.

- I honor you, Your Majesty.

Be quick. Come on. Let's go.

Get out of the way! Come on!

Hurry! Come on! Out of the way!

- I honor you, Queen Carlotta.

- All right. Get out of the way.

Come on. Hurry.

I'll call you when I need you,

Lieutenant Wilson.

I honor you, Your Majesty.

Coo-Coo, I must have

a little talk with you.

Leave me alone, Mummy.

I've had a wonderful evening...

and I don't want it spoiled

with your nosy nagging.

A wonderful evening

with a garbage man?

He's not a garbage man.

He just helps pick up trash

at the nudist colony.

I hardly think

that a nudist janitor...

is a proper escort

for a royal princess.

I'm 38 years old,

and I can date who I please.

You have no right to order me

around like a subject.

You may not realize it,

Coo-Coo, but you have...

an awesome responsibility

on your shoulders.

One day, all Mortville

will be yours...

and you must learn

to rule with dignity.

I don't want to be

queen of anywhere!

Mother, I want

to marry Herbert!

- Herbert? Is that his name?

- It's a beautiful name.

You would step down from your

throne for the love of a mutant?

- But, Mummy, I love him!

- Well, I won't have it!

I'm afraid I'm going to

have to punish you, Coo-Coo.

You're forbidden to leave your

room until your 40th birthday!

I won't stay in this castle!

I love Herbert...

and I'm gonna marry him,

and you won't stop me!

Now you've given me

another nosebleed!

I hate this stupid town!

Get out of here!

- Leave me be!

- Excuse me, Your Highness.

Take me to my bedroom and

lock Coo-Coo up for the night.

Come on. Hurry up.

That daughter of mine

is a delinquent.

I'm going to have to take

drastic steps with her.

I honor you, Queen Carlotta.

Can you make it, Your Highness?

I suppose so.

I believe it's your night...

to service me,

Lieutenant Wilson.

I'm always eager, Your Highness.

Oh, that love muscle.

Whip it out and show it hard.

Come on, Daddy. F*** me.

Glow, little inchworm.

Look at those balls!

Daddy! Come on.

Look at that pout. Yeah.

Come on, Lieutenant.

I haven't got all night.

Don't bother with the head.

The "V" of my crotch

is what needs the attention.

But I can f*** like a bandit,

Your Highness.

Rub my safety deposit box, then.

Dig for gold!

Oh, Your Highness!

Go, Daddy! Go all night!

Get it!

Pretty outfits.

Funny, is it?

Well, let me tell you,

I wouldn't wear

this outfit to a dog fight.

Maybe you two

have resigned yourselves...

to a subhuman life

in this slum of a town...

but I, Peggy Gravel, have not.

You better hush up before Mole

loses her temper and smacks you.

Just shut up, Peggy.

No, I won't shut up.

You shut up!

I'll tell you, my blue blood

is about ready to boil.

Hey! You listen to me, wacko.

See this fist?

I'm about ready to use...

that hatchet-face

of yours as a punching bag.

Now sit down and shut up!

Mole's right, Peggy.

I am sick of listenin'

to your bitchin'.

The next time you feel a fit

comin' on, go outside and b*tch.

B*tch at the air.

B*tch at the trees.

But don't b*tch at us!

But bitching isn't relief

if there's no one to hear it.

Well, we can't all

be your psychiatrist, honey.

We've got problems of our own.

Well, why are you in Mortville?

It's a long ugly story.

Go ahead, Muffy. Tell her.

Maybe she'd stop

feelin' sorry for herself.

I wasn't always like this.

I mean, of course I was always

visually stunning...

but I was married to a man

and had a baby named Freddy.

It was about two years ago...

and my husband and I were just

returning from a cocktail party.

Let me drive!

Get off! I can drive!

Always trying to boss me around.

You're drunk, as per usual.

Every time we step out of

the house, you get dead drunk.

When you're married to a nag,

a man's got to drink.

First I have to be mortified

in front of our friends.

Now I have to be mortified

in front of the baby-sitter.

I suppose I'll

have to drive her home.

I'll take her.

Yeah, you'll take her

straight to the graveyard.

- Let me drive!

- Get off! I'll take her!

Check it out.

This motherf***er

is having a little party!

What are you doing here?

What is this?

Who are you?

Get out of my house!

Where's my baby?

Freddy!

Get out of my liquor,

you little punk!

Oh, Freddy!

Oh, my God! He's gone!

Oh, my God!

What have you done

with my baby?

- I don't know! I'm trippin'!

- Trippin'? Where's Freddy?

I think I put him

in the kitchen.

The kitchen? Oh, Freddy!

Oh, Freddy! Little Freddy.

Oh, baby.

Hey, got any downers?

My baby. You little tramp!

My baby was in

the refrigerator!

So don't pay me!

Don't pay me, then.

Don't pay you? You little snip.

That's all right.

Come on, b*tch.

Eat some dog food!

- No!

- Eat it!

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