Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Page #9

That's a desperately sick lie.

Don't you know it even yet?

Martha.

- My arm has gotten tired whipping you.

- You're mad.

- Year after year.

- Deluded, Martha.

- Deluded.

- It's not what I wanted.

I thought at least you were

onto yourself. I didn't know.

- Onto myself.

- No. You're sick.

I'll show you who's sick.

I'll show you who's sick.

- All right, Martha.

- I'll show you.

- Show you. I'll show...

- Stop it! Stop it!

Oh, boy.

You really are having

a field day, aren't you?

Well, I'm gonna finish you

before I'm through with you.

You and that quarterback?

You both gonna finish me?

Before I'm through with you, you'll wish

you died in that automobile, you bastard.

And you'll wish you never

mentioned our son.

- I warned you.

- I'm impressed.

- I warned you not to go too far.

- I'm just beginning.

I'm numbed enough so I can take you

when we're alone. I don't listen anymore.

If I do listen I sift everything

so I don't really hear...

...which is the only way to manage it.

But you've taken a new tack

in the last century or two...

...which is just too much. Too much.

I don't mind your dirty underthings in

public. I do, but I've reconciled to that.

- You move into your own fantasy world.

- You're nuts.

- Well, you have.

- Nuts!

You can go on saying that...

Have you ever listened

to your sentences?

You're so convoluted,

that's what you are.

You talk like you're writing

one of your stupid papers.

Actually, I'm rather worried about you.

About your mind.

Don't you worry about my mind,

sweetheart.

- I'll think I'll have you committed.

- You what?

I think I'll have you committed.

Baby, aren't you something?

I've got to find a way to get at you.

You've got at me.

You don't have to do anything, George.

A thousand years of you

has been quite enough.

You'll go quietly then?

Do you wanna know what's happened?

Do you wanna know

what's really happened?

It snapped. Finally. Not me, it.

The whole arrangement.

Boy, you can go on forever and ever.

Everything is manageable.

You make all sorts of excuses:

To hell with it, this is life.

Maybe tomorrow he'll be dead.

Maybe tomorrow you'll be dead.

All sorts of excuses.

Then one day...

...one night, something happens

and, snap...

...it breaks and you just don't

give a damn anymore.

I tried with you, baby. I really tried.

Come off it, Martha.

I really tried.

You're a monster. You are.

I'm loud and I'm vulgar...

...and I wear the pants in the house

because somebody's got to.

But I am not a monster. I'm not!

You're a spoiled, self-indulgent,

willful, dirty-minded, liquor-riddled...

Snap. It went snap.

I am not gonna try to

get through to you anymore.

There was a second back there.

There was a second

when I could've gotten through to you.

When maybe we could've cut

through all this crap.

But it's past.

And I'm not going to try.

Once a month, Martha.

I've gotten used to it.

Once a month we get

Misunderstood Martha...

...the good-hearted girl

beneath the barnacles.

The little miss that the touch of kindness

will bring to bloom again.

I believed it more times than I'd admit.

I hate thinking I'm that much of a sucker.

But I don't believe you.

I just don't believe you.

There is no moment, no moment anymore

when we could come together.

Maybe you're right. You can't

come together with nothing...

...and you're nothing.

Snap.

I looked at you tonight

and you weren't there.

I finally snapped.

And I'm gonna howl it out. And I'm

not gonna give a damn what I do.

And I'm gonna make the biggest

goddamn explosion you've ever heard.

Try and I'll beat you at your own game.

- Is that a threat, George?

- That's a threat, Martha.

You're gonna get it, baby.

Be careful, Martha, I'll rip you to pieces.

You're not man enough.

You haven't the guts.

Total war?

Total.

Oh, come on, Martha.

No. No. No.

Bells.

I've been hearing bells.

Bells ringing.

Bells ringing.

I've been hearing bells.

- Jesus.

- And I couldn't sleep for the bells.

They woke me up.

What time is it?

Don't bother me.

Bells.

I was asleep.

And I was dreaming of something...

...and I heard the sounds coming,

and I didn't know what it was...

...and it frightened me.

- It was so cold. The wind...

- I'm gonna get you, Martha.

- The wind was so cold.

- Somehow, Martha.

And there was someone there,

and, oh, I didn't want someone there.

I was naked.

You don't know

what's going on, do you?

I don't wanna know.

Listen to them.

- I don't want to.

- Look at them!

I don't want to. Please leave me alone.

No. I just...

I don't want any children.

I don't want any children, please.

I'm afraid. I don't wanna be hurt.

Please. Please.

- I should have known.

- What?

Does the stud you married

know about it?

About what? Stay away.

How do you make your

secret little murders? Pills?

You got a secret supply of pills?

Apple jelly? Willpower?

- I feel sick.

- Gonna throw up?

Where is he? I want my husband.

I want a drink.

- That's right, go at it!

- I want something!

You know what's going on up there,

little miss?

I don't wanna know anything.

You leave me alone.

- Who rang?

- What?

What were the bells? Who rang?

- He's up there and you ask who rang?

- Who rang? Someone rang.

- Someone...

- Rang.

Someone rang.

- Yes.

- Bells rang.

- Yes, the bells rang and it was someone...

- Somebody.

Somebody.

Somebody rang.

Bells rang and it was somebody...

With...

I've got it.

I've got it, Martha.

It was a message.

And the message was...

...our son...

It was a message. The bells rang...

...and it was a message,

and it was about...

...our son.

And the message was...

And the message was...

...our son...

...is dead.

- Oh, no.

Our son is dead and Martha

doesn't know. I haven't told her.

- Our son is dead. Martha doesn't know.

- Oh, God.

- And you're not gonna tell her.

- Your son is dead.

I'll tell her myself.

In good time, I'll tell her myself.

I'm gonna be sick.

Are you? That's nice.

- I'm gonna die.

- Good, good. Go right ahead.

Martha.

Martha, I have some...

...terrible news.

It's about our son.

He's dead.

Do you hear me, Martha?

Our boy is dead.

Hey.

Hey!

George?

Where the hell is everybody?

George?

I'll give you bastards five to come out

from wherever you're hiding!

George.

George!

By God, you've gone crazy too.

I said, you've gone crazy too.

Probably.

Probably.

You've all gone crazy.

I come downstairs and what happens?

What happens?

My wife's in the can with a liquor bottle

and she winks at me.

Winks at me.

She's never wunk at you?

What a shame.

She's lying down on the floor,

on the tiles, all curled up.

And she starts peeling the label

on the liquor bottle, the brandy bottle.

Maybe she'd be

more comfortable in the tub.

And I ask her what she's doing

and she goes:

"Nobody knows I'm here."

And I come down here...

...and you're stumbling around

going "clink" for God's sake.

- You've all gone crazy.

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