Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Page #10

- Yeah.

Sad but true.

Where is your husband?

He is vanished.

You're all crazy.

Nuts.

'Tis the refuge we take

when the unreality of the world...

...sits too heavy on our tiny heads.

Relax. Sink into it.

You're no better than anybody else.

I think I am.

Well, you're certainly a flop

in some departments.

What'd you say?

I said you certainly are a flop

in some departments.

I'm sorry you're disappointed.

Maybe sometime

when I didn't drink for 10 hours.

Baby, you sure are a flop.

Boy, you're something. You know that?

I mean, you're really something.

Boy, you know, to you...

To you, everybody's a flop.

Your husband's a flop, I'm a flop.

You're all flops. I am the earth mother,

and you are all flops.

I disgust me.

You know...

...there's only been one man in my

whole life who's ever made me happy.

You know that? One.

That the gym instructor or something?

No, no, no.

George.

- My husband.

- You're kidding.

- Am I?

- You must be. Him?

- Yeah.

- Sure, sure.

You don't believe it.

Why, of course I do.

You always deal on appearances?

Oh, for God's sake.

George, who is out somewhere

there in the dark.

Who is good to me. Whom I revile.

Who can keep learning the games we

play as quickly as I can change them.

Who can make me happy

and I do not wish to be happy.

Yes, I do wish to be happy.

George and Martha.

- Sad, sad, sad.

- Sad.

Whom I will not forgive

for having come to rest.

For having seen me and having said:

"Yes, this will do."

Who has made the hideous, the hurting...

...the insulting mistake of loving me.

And must be punished for it.

George and Martha.

Sad, sad, sad.

Sad, sad, sad.

Someday...

Some night, some stupid

liquor-ridden night I will go too far.

I'll either break the man's back or I'll

push him off for good, which I deserve.

I don't think he's got

a vertebra intact.

Oh, you don't, huh?

You don't think so?

Oh, little boy.

You've got yourself so hunched over

that microphone...

Microscope.

Yeah. And you don't see anything,

do you?

You see everything

but the goddamn mind.

You see all the specks and the crap,

but you don't see what goes on, do you?

- All right, now.

- You know so little.

And you're gonna take over

the world, huh?

I said, all right.

The stallion's mad, huh?

The gelding's getting all upset, huh?

Boy, you swing wild, don't you?

- You poor little bastard.

- Hit out at everything.

Go answer the door.

What'd you say to me?

I said, go answer the door.

What are you, deaf?

You want me to go answer the door?

That's right, lunkhead,

go answer the door.

Must be something you do well.

You too drunk to do that too?

There's no need for you to...

Answer it!

You be houseboy

around here for a while.

You can start in being

houseboy right now.

Look, lady, I'm no flunky to you.

Sure, you are.

You're ambitious, aren't you?

You didn't come back here with me

out of mad, driven passion, did you?

You were thinking a little bit

about your career, weren't you?

Well, you can just houseboy your way

up the ladder for a while.

- There's no limit to you, is there?

- No, baby, none. Go answer the door.

Go on, get!

Aimless. Wanton.

Now, you just do as you're told.

You show old Martha

there's something you can do.

I'm coming, for chrissake!

Wonderful. Marvelous.

Just a gigolo, everywhere I go

Stop that!

Sorry, baby.

Now, you go answer the little door, huh?

Christ.

Oh, how lovely.

Why, sonny, you came home

for your birthday at last.

Stay away from me.

- That's the houseboy, for God's sake.

- Really?

That's not our own little sonny, Jim?

Our own all-American

something or other?

I certainly hope not.

He's been acting awful funny if he is.

I'll bet. Chippy, chippy, chippy, huh?

Martha...

...I brung these flowers...

...because l... Because you...

Hell, Martha, gee.

Pansies, rosemary, violets.

My wedding bouquet.

Well, if you two kids don't mind,

I'll just get my wife...

You stay right where you are.

Make my hubby a drink.

I don't think I will.

No, Martha, no. That would be too much.

He's your houseboy, baby, not mine.

I'm nobody's houseboy!

- Now.

- Now.

- I'm nobody's houseboy now

- I'm nobody's houseboy now

- Vicious.

- Children? That right?

Vicious children with their sad games

hopscotching their way through life?

Something like that.

Screw, baby.

Him can't. Him too full of booze.

Really? Here! Dump these in some gin.

What a terrible thing to do

to Martha's snapdragons.

Is that what they are?

Yep. And I went by moonlight to Daddy's

greenhouse to pick them for her.

There is no moon.

I saw it go down from the bedroom.

From the bedroom?

Well, there is a moon.

There is no goddamn moon,

the moon went down.

That may be, chastity,

but it came back up.

Bull!

Once when I was sailing past Majorca,

the moon went down...

...thought about it for a while,

and then, pop, came up again.

That is not true. That is such a lie.

You must not call everything a lie,

Martha. Must she?

I don't know when you people are lying.

- You're damn right.

- You're not supposed to.

Right.

- I was sailing past Majorca...

- You never sailed past Majorca.

- Martha.

- You were never...

...in the Mediterranean at all, ever!

My mommy and daddy took me

as a college-graduation present.

- Nuts.

- Was this after you killed them?

Maybe.

Yeah. And maybe not too.

- Jesus.

- Truth and illusion.

Who knows the difference, eh, toots?

Houseboy?

- I'm not a houseboy.

- You don't make it in the sack...

...you're a houseboy.

- I am not a houseboy!

Then you must have made it, yes? Yes?

Somebody's lying around here,

not playing the game straight.

Who's lying? Martha?

Tell him I'm not a houseboy.

No, you're not a houseboy.

So be it.

Truth and illusion, George.

You don't know the difference.

No, but we must carry on

as though we did.

Amen.

- Snap went the dragons.

- Thank you.

- Skip it.

- I said, snap went the dragons!

- Yeah, yeah, we know.

- Snap.

Don't, George!

- Snap.

- Don't do that.

- Shut up, stud.

- I'm not a stud.

Snap. Then you're a houseboy.

Which is it? Which are you?

- Snap.

- Does it matter to you, George?

Snap. No, actually it doesn't.

Either way I've had it.

Stop throwing those damn things at me!

- Either way. Snap.

- Shall I do something to him?

You leave him alone.

- Which are you, baby, houseboy or stud?

- For God's sake.

- Snap.

- Truth or illusion, George?

Doesn't it matter to you at all?

Snap. You got your answer, baby?

Got it.

You just gird your blue-veined loins, girl.

There's one more game to play.

It's called Bringing up Baby.

Oh, for Lord's sake.

I don't want a fuss. Don't want

any scandal around here, do you?

You want to keep to your timetable?

Then sit!

And you, pretty miss, you like fun and

games? You're a sport from way back.

- All right, George. All right.

- Good, good. But we're not all here.

You... You, you, you.

Your little wifelet isn't here.

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