A five, six, seven, eight, chest, step... What a woman!
Pivot. Kick. Walk. Turn...
What a night!
Yes, that=s me. Dreaming of dancing, while stalking
Hello, what!? And who are you, anyway?
Damn, can't one take a peaceful splash? Then again, a soft, sweet
maid and a vast, firm bed, can't be all that bad!
Is anybody there?
Is this room in order?
It´s me, Kelly B. The chaste-again maid.
Who else did you expect? Don't God-foresaken places, produce profoundly
I am the one ENDOWED with the sheets and with the mop! With empty rooms
and empty beds. Empty... empty everything...Hello?
Hey, man, bless you, and all that.. For my sake and that of heaven, do come
in. I=m Peter, the robed and hurly-burly keeper of this dude's way too
early, pearly gate.
Perhaps, Maid, you can help me straighten this sucker out.
Knock! Knock hard!
Do I hear voices. Is anybody there? Or is that the thick, the wicked,
whispering wind again?
Music! Kick! Dance! Up and away! St.Pete, what do I do, what do I do?
My popularity's been soaring.. how do I get a handle.. how do I go on
handling this... ALL the time?
Yeah, my ass, that`s why you`re here, I guess.
To some I had an aura, to others an odour. It often amounts to the same...
Ejeculation & hide, a score-and-run lover. Grab, dash, and never
commit, while scaling the highest heights.
It is strange to listen to yourself, not quite knowing what´s
in and on your mind. I mean, St. Pete, the keeper, coming from a long
line of guides, guardians, spies and cops, who are always there
except when needed, can partially be explained...
But who could that galloping young cowboy be, on his breathless, hoofless
hobbyhorse, but me
.? A precocious, lost, wild child.
Poor lost sop... Afraid of growing up?
I think this clapboard, shitbox Inn is getting to me, like being stuck
in a chilly void.
Knock! Knock hard if it`s dark, Kelly B.!
Knock, knock the wet near-myth in the tub.
Hey, wait, wait a minute, what's going on here? And speaking
St. Pete, if I were you, I wouldn't talk.
I could have sworn I heard my name.. It sounded like a little boy, yelling
Hello?! Is anybody in there?
Of course someone's there. We`re all in there. Me too.
Though it's true when needed,
I get the hell out.
Oh, all right then. Come in, since you all find it so damn necessary
to be in my room and dream. Besides, I=m terrified..
Of dying young?
Of course, you fool. But what would you know?
Still, it may not be a bad idea, to have a soft...
... to have a soft, sweet maid about?
As I start taking myself by the hand in this manner, becoming my own
shepherd so to speak, protected by a maid in case the professionally
elusive St.Peter cannot be relied upon... I seem to meet the strangest
people. Most, I suppose, related to fears about my extremely immediate
and otherwise very turbulent past. And pointing towards a future that..
Maybe someone is in there. Aching for my company, waiting for my help.
Enter only if you know what you look like, honey!
Ricky, where did you learn to speak like that? In the street, Ricky,
in the street?
Auntie, if you really love me, will you wipe my bum?
Yes, yes, it is slowly coming back to me. What a hurt little boy I was.
Always acting out adventures, with Auntie, my dear Auntie-acid, busy
bleeching Dad's grim, stained uniforms at the launderette.
All noise, no people....
Ho! Slow! Stop! Nestor. The light is red.
I bet you, it's all in my mind. And all in a day's work here, I suppose.
Stop. Always having to stop for red and..
...and small, penis pink traffic lights?
Jesus, I hate subversive saints, especially those with suspect credentials,
like this one here. Now, where was I? Ah yes... Red lights are there
for man, boy and horse it seems. Why, for each to find out for himself,
at every phase of life. Does that make sense?
Look, Nestor, at all those neon lights. Aren't they beautiful? I wonder
what they're for? Giddyup, boy! Run! Race ahead! And don't ask where
we're going, except up, always up..
Good little boy, Ricky. Always move ahead. So one day you'll be...
Up, up and awayyyy...
Oh, damn! My galloping head!
On second thought, why don't you all go home. And leave me alone in
these awful... in these slippery shadows of mine.
Kick ! Pivot! Dance, and then go...
Oh, no, Cobb! I`ll have none of that. Tuxedo or not, dismisssing the
crowd at will, goofing off again... That's all finished, my friend.
You promised me, don't forget. I am you, and you`re not fooling me again.
Open up those dark, dusty closets, for once: Let in the light. Stir
up the dirt, all of it, weary midnight rider of mine...
Shut the damn window, close the curtains. Kill that light, I've had
There is not much point in going in. This room is emptier than I thought!
So much for the complimentary Memphremagog Tribune I'm to deliver. I
don't know why they bother printing it up.
Wait. Maid. Is that you? Do you have the paper? Did I make the headlines?
Was I renominated, while I danced till new morning left the old night?
A reasonable enough question, given all the obese and bawdy, bawling
toddlers I was forced to kiss. The flesh I pressed of late.
And what about the market? Is it up, today? The trade gap closed..
Don't tell me even superficial officials have no right to bring home big bacon, earning
their crunchy crust..!
Why I chair the Baconite Party, you might say I'm a Neo-Baconite!
So much for the paper, so much for the house umbrella, even though it's
From my new elevated perspective I notice, beside my own apparent high
state of agitation and many, many other details, that this time of year,
when one sees the mountains not well
delineated against the sky, it means that it already rains.
On the other hand, when one does see them, it generally means it'll
soon begin to pour again.
I am a lot like those mountains. One rarely sees me completely sober,
mind well delineated, and all that. But when one does, it generally
means I´m pretty close to getting tanked again...
Oh but no, I=m not here to speak as much as to listen and help to listen.
To myself and to you, isn't that the whole object of this exercise...?
Wind and the void. That is all I=ve got.
What a life. At least up in the hum-drum city, with all its faults and
terrible conditions I could change. Change job, hobnob, whereas here
I am stuck, for a lousy buck, rooms full or not...
Hey, hang-on... Am I mistaken or is this dream getting more than a little
damp on the inside.
Cobb, where are you? Cobb, when you`re away, do you think of me a lot?
Ah! Yes! Of course! It is the sweet and patient voice of Carmen... Where
would I be without her? She, who justly calls me her split-second, semi-automatic
Damp dreams like these are rare, at my age and stage..
Cobb, are you still my this-and-that-way lover? Am I still your very
own three-minute woman? Each day getting three minutes of you, your
love, your attention...
It is all a stage, Carmen...
Nestor! Giddyup! The stage is pulling up!
My God! I do hear voices! This surely is the end!
The end? Maid, may I offer you my card? St. Pete´s my name. Rendering
tender care's my game. If I`m there, if you find my celestial office
Oh, that poor maid need not worry. This is not the end. This is only
the beginning. It is my state of mind she has encountered, not her own.
I quickly approach the tail end of my first and desperate night at this
hallowed, lonely lodge. But it=s getting better, since you arrived.
Yes I=m Cobb. Richard Cobb. Oft-polled politician. Broke broker. Failed
lover of life or what I grasp of it. Taught how to grab, but unable
to hold, let alone pass on. Pushed to expectations, good ones, dumb
ones, imposed ones, and some of his own. To live up to, to achieve it
all, remembering everything, everybody, every day, all the time.. Torn
by the dream to own, to possess, from crowds to vaginas multiple and
the desire to chuck. Overcome, throughout and by-and-large, by all too
few spasms of self-disgust. Until now. And yet, not remembering why
or how I got here tonight..
That´s me, that´s Cobb. But let´s continue to find
Look, look at me. Public lout, private wimp, lying there, dressed in
the evaporating but still immensely humid bath! Adrift as usual in shot
and shifting light.
Carmen, for the life of me......
I can`t seem to wake up!
Well, I guess I'm off. With my luck, it=s one of those high-flyers on
the run. One, who´s not even there when he thinks he is. Believing
that at Memphremagog life can be suspended.. somehow.
Now the maid, the only one of flesh and blood besides ourselves here,
is of course entitled to her opinion. But you and I, we must continue
to listen to the fires in our own bodies, in our own hearts, to the
tempests in our minds. For these few moments at least, and more than
once in a while.
Oh, my damn head... What have I done again... When is it all going to
No, of course there's no real escape. But sometimes it´s necessary
to face up. To put the dotty house in order. It being the only one we've
Last call, Mr. Cobb!
First call Cobb. St.Pete here. I have an untimely, heavenly robe waiting
for you, pal. The one you get for squandering your will, your heart,
your liver and your lungs.
No more time-outs. Lights on, for today at least the game´s up. I can try, but I can't fix halos...
At last, a clock that strikes. A barman who can't fix halos, what a shame! Bet you he can ruin auras real fast, if he tried! Game over, Cobb!
Faster, Nestor! One more time around the block.
All right. Enough. All of you. If you`re going to stay,
let me make one thing abundantly clear: Here, I am the puppeteer!
Now that's so typical of me. Ranting and raving, fully dressed and
soaking wet. Interrupted by roommaid, cowboy, saint and others, while
in the last throws of a go-stop-go life, still dreaming that I'm in
full control of things.
Young Mr. Cobb?
To boot, here comes the bold, bald and mocking driver, of my erstwhile
I wish I had a car, so I could take off. With a handsome
chauffeur seducing me in a smooth, slow, firm curve, some place quiet
Now what the hell..! Who is there? How many times do I have to tell
you? If you get to a fork in the road, take it, you twit.
It is me, Sir. Jonathan. Your chauffeur and social critic.
I just had the only thing your wife and her family still let you dispose
of, washed and waxed...
You had my `still-let-you-dispose-of`, washed...?
And waxed, Sir. At the nude carwash.
Times are dire, gushers few...
RADIO Voice: POLLS AND DOLLAR DIP! GOLD STABLE! COBB NOT!
The deep, inner voice of unreasonable desire it is always there. Ringing
like a beastly, urgent bell. Man, it's loud and every hour on the hour.
Like a pang, or strong unwanted hind-wind, pushing us up the down and
smooth-fast track, to hell...
You got it, pal.
It was a good, and, yes, federated carwash, Sir. Despite their lack
Who gives a damn!
Wait a second. Did you say she left me the car? Is that all? Jonathan,
are you telling me that I'm no longer a married man?
I could tell, for on the wall, above the cash-register and in that order,
hung their certification and an illustration of a brand-name, twist-cap
lager beer, right beside a genuine plastic image of the Virgin Mary..
Mary, that's my gal.
Peter? That's my saint!
Last call, Sir. Lights ablaze, in case you hadn't noticed.
Screw the lights. Damn the hour.
Nestor, for my birthday, I want a private traffic light... So we`ll
be unstoppable... uncatchable... FREE.
That's right, Ricky, always be unstoppable. Never let them catch you
and one day you will be a big, big man. Who'll dine with dignitaries:
the President of this, the C.E.O of that, given limousines and directorships,
called Sir, or even Mylord one day, after having acquired the Daily
Telegraph... or some such elevated folio.
My ex-husband loved chic, foreign papers, I called HIM lots of names...
Ah, to be given a sixteen mile line of credit.. From Yonkers to Bonkers,
from Vegas to Monaco...
All right, one quick one for the road? I know what makes you tick: one
more drink, right. Mr. Cobb, you're not listening again... You're beginning
to slip into your late, light, night coma.
Wake up, Sir! You've got to get yourself home.
Jesus Christ, do I have to do EVERYTHING?
That's the problem with the Cobbs of this world. I have to nurse them
along, when THEY won`t nurse anyone. They will refuse to listen to what
people like me have to say. And when, finally, they do, it seems to
immediately slip their mind.
It's not such a good job, mine. Because I hear so much, I see so much,
without ever being heard. I'm paid to listen, not to speak. Cobb here
is paid to speak, not to listen apparently. But how can he really do
anything, for anyone but himself that way?
He's not a bad man, it seems to me. Just an oversized boy, who hasn't
been spanked in a long, long time.. Running away from what... Who the
Oh, Mr. Cobb., you have it all, why don´t you just get up and
go home. God, I wish I had a woman, the way you do. All she'd have to
do, is listen to me sometimes. A country woman most likely, someone
simple not slow. Or someone who'se been away for a long, long time,
or both. Who wouldn't mind picking me up after work, late, everyone
left. Whom I'd serve a long sweet drink before she'd hand me my hat.
A classy girl who if pushed could put up a good fight, not a pushover
like me. No, I need a woman who could make the difference, someone a
little bigger than me, no matter how short. Mr. Cobb.. Mr. Cobb! See,
see, there he goes...
I'm dying for a drink, a tall-ceilinged cafe. A dark brown bar with
posh tabourets. And a friendly, pudgy, clever, bartender, who could
use a hug.
How about it, Sir? Me, too, I got to get home.
Jonathan, where am I? Jonathan Bobbsey, is that you?
Or is all this part of some sort of absolution...
About to be cleansed, about to be reborn Richard Cobb's the name. Hi,
how are yah!?
....what in living hell does every one want from me?
RADIO Voice: DOLLAR DIVES, DOW AND COBB DOWN!
Sir, did you per chance, in here, before..
Did you leave a large and decomposing cat?
I think I'm leaving now.. Deluxe lodges are like heaven: richly appointed
but sterile, and cold.
You said it, sister.
Did I what?
Did I leave a ...
A cat, Sir!
A dead, a severely reeking cat!
A dead one, Sir.
In the bath?
In the room, Sir. At the Ritz, this very morning. My brother and cisterns
in attendance, feeling rather faint.
Go, Nestor, go! And run like hell.
The incontinent, the ballistic Ritz.
Are these rooms...
But to bury...
The odious night...
It's utterly true that I found my relief upwind from the Ritz' lobby
at times. Upwind from the lobbyers, too.
And from the other prowlers in the hall, below the giant crystal ball,
where all the upright, yet stooping pillars of society ready for the
taking, pose and repose.
Bartender, the only thing wrong with the Ritz are all those happy couples
that come streaming in because they cannot stand to be home alone. And
then of course those withered widows and divorcees giving Heads of State..
Giving shrivelled head.. Giving Heads of State a shrivelled.. Giving
shrivelled Heads of State late and latent oral punishment.
That's why I like this joint. Where I don't have to look at or listen
Thank you, Sir.
I always vote for the votees, as you well know.
The voted unvoted, for being devoted only to themselves. Yes, a bit
of a problem there, Cobb, go on. Don´t get distracted. The night's
already old and should not be followed by another morbid morn', once
It is why we must go on, wading through the tide of women and of men,
in order to perceive peccadillo Olive, your oriental paramour, who is
the subject of your duplicitous yearning, at least that is what you
A double life builds character, you reckoned, but...
If only I could have lead a double life, like that ex-husband of mine.
It wouldn't have solved anything, but at least I would have had my fun.
Instead of being alone.. without a home... and no man I can call my
.... and indeed, duplicity is not for the faint of heart but still part
of the race of acquisition, of domination, to gather, rob and steal..
As it is part of a strange predeliction for certain self-deriliction,
commencing in my case with admission to the bar at sixteen and never
really leaving from then on.
Mr. Cobb, what's the absolute last measure of your pleasure? One small
shooter before I close her up?
SENSE is what we want. And sensible bartenders are a pre-requisite in
the natural order of things. Usual poison, double up..
...followed by my obtaining a mail-order brokerage license, running
for and subletting public office, abandoning my sweet wife in all but
name, because of the half-chiselled granite pedestal she ordered for
me.... become unmountable due to excess of bourbon and rum-dipped cigars,
often causing acute lack of oxygen and coronary rumblings in me...and
so on and so forth. But now I'm running ahead of myself.
On the whole, I like women better... than clammy-handed, sarcastic chauffeurs
Obviously. Hello, Lick!
Richard Cobb, born 1949... Death temporarily left open... Dear beloved
of... Cobb? This is Carmen. Are we through?
My dear wife again.... True, always looking, always giving, but never
up... However, that's no excuse for the way I carried on.
Hello, Lick! My clown prince....
As I said, peccadillo Olive, ah... a friend!.
Sorry! Hello Ricky... My Crown Prince.. I'm at 3465 St.Matthew.... apt.904...
are you coming up?
Wait! One love at a time please.
When the pace slows, heaven must wait though never for long.
Nestor, kill the pace. Look at that beautiful cigar-store Indian over
there.. He looks so real, did you see him move his lips?
(DELIBERATELY BROKEN TONGUE)
Pace to kill!
Let them wipe selves out, for polluting forests with damn Treasury Bills!
Well, well, well, look and listen. Who after Carmen and Olive, now climbs
into my roaring mind, but the well-spoken, ill-considered, tragically
Cobb, darling, you never had to worry. I let you run and run, so you
could prove yourself, to yourself... But at one point I HAD to cut you
Run , Nestor, run...
Good boy, Ricky...
I'll make a run for it, with the first man that comes along..
Hello, Rick! When I=m ready for you, will you kiss me low and long?
I fought my way in...
I fought my way up...
Cobb, remember, we're fighting our way OUT...
Hoping not to hurt or get hurt, yet another time...
Hell, I am the only politician... The only one... Who battled for a
20 000 dollar grant to teach them Apaches how to play golf...
(UNDER HIS BREATH)
Do you know how many cases of Bourbon that represents, you ingrates?
So I could feather-caddy your soiled three-woods? I don't believe this
A membership to the hunt-club wouldn't have been more up my creek?
Yes, Yes, I killed with kindness. But in my own defense, I did perceive
a tremendous lack of free and unspoiled land... So what better way to
protect lost hunter, warrior, trapper then...?
Yup, just what we need. A little water-hazard here, a sandtrap there,
watching golf balls migrate.. What is this? They get the birdies, but
I stay the lame, the sitting duck?
Hey, aren't you that politician who, in order to save everyone's damn
car from rust in winter, would have them throw pepper on the streets,
instead of salt?
It was a generous amount.
Oh, God, Cobb! I do miss you, you know.
Go ahead, Rick.You may kiss them.
I just washed my feet.
RADIO Voice: EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT! COBB SHOT!
FLORIST DID IT!
Inner voice and head-line, sometimes getting blurred.
Yes, my dearest Carmen?
After you were shot, and only slightly hurt, I brought you flowers.
Something you never did for me..
Who would want to hurt my little Ricky?
Waldo did it.
Always standing by the door, remember him?
I remember him. Even shorter than me? Supposed to love children?
Always with that hat!
A CHILD CRIES
Oh no! Don't shoot!!
A SHOT RINGS OUT
CHILD CRIES LOUDER
Bastard! Bastard! Why did he do it? My poor, poor little Ricky.
Only because he thinks Ricky is much, much older, and shouldn't be a
child anymore... A lot of people do!
He ruined that Waldo man, I know. I heard Mr. Cobb talk about him back
in the limousine. He said he´d run into a bit of bad luck with
him, shouldn't have bet the man's entire life savings on a certain plummeting
stock.. Said he'd try and make it up... That he hadn't made any money
on him, anyway, or at least not much..
It was the day of the shooting. The day I brought the flowers that Miss
Carmen had sent him... straight from the hospital where he was resting
in his own blood for once, to Miss Olive of the succulent feet.
I hope that at the very least Miss Carmen had bought them from that
Waldo florist.. Poor jerk later killed himself, I hear. Hope it wasn=t from
Yes. That's life. And I like looking after mine, thank you very much.
Darling, this is sweet Chinese Olive. Thank you for the lovely flowers.
Now that I love you, will you come and see me, will you kiss them at
She of the slitting dress, of the slipping tongue, of the petty cash.
Olive, do you know of my enormous achievements? Do you know it was me
Who from now on wants the referee to ride a zebra, in all polo games..
The striped referee's father IS a zebra. His mother a night mare, you
RADIO Voice: COBB SAVE THE TAPEWORM CAMPAIGN QUASHED,
CASTRATE THE COCKROACH STILL ON
Chauffeur & Apache
I fought, I served, I suffered, I sacrificed..
A pipe-dream, if ever I heard one.
It's true, Cobb went far and in between. Straight from the bar to the
always awful, the mostly unmemorable, unremembered sack...
Chauffeur & Apache
(LAUGH EVEN LOUDER)
He tried to separate them.
They hadn´t spoken other in years.
Separate who? Who are you talking about?
Miss Olive´s legs, you fool!
Chauffeur & Apache
(LAUGHING MALICIOUSLY AGAIN)
A good thing the public never listens closely. Even though my outrages
consist half of naivete, half of anger and disenchantment.. All that
noise, just my primitive way of getting back at some of the stupid things I....
Oh but now, how I do cringe.
It all started happening during my last tuxedo and Ritzy phase. Brokerage,
running between Bull, Bear and declining fish-markets had been floundering
stubbornly. Carmen, my dear wife, not surprisingly, had furthermore
and finally deleted me from her wallet and self. I had long worn mixed
and heavy doses of polkadot on pin-stripe, blue-chipped herringbone,
hound`s-tooth and sometimes Prince-of-Wales. But then I saw myself obliged
to dress even better, for as tradition has it in my two professions:
politics and brokerage, the least one accomplishes, the better one covers
RADIO Voice HELP! POLICE! MERGER! MERGER!
Miss Carmen fell for him when he first slurred her name. I still worked
for her rich daddy at the time.
He was lost..He was insecure and yes, he had way too much to drink..Yet,
he was sweet and vulnerable and there was hope. What happened, Cobb?
Did I bruise something deep inside of you? I'm sorry, baby, but you
did it to yourself, you know.
I fell mostly for his clothes.. He came down the winding staircase..
late one morning, at the glitzy Ritz...
Closer some come, smaller they get!
Oh, Olive! I don't know if this is the right time..
But what comes after morning-coat, brocade or velvet, beside cirrhosis
What? Eternity? Don´t make me laugh...
Mr. Cobb, do you know Winston Bobbsey, my look-a-like brother? He is
doorman, all day long greeting eminent bastards at the Ritz!?
You all look alike, you thugs. Just like the Brontë Sisters, but bolder,
balder, better hung.
That's probably because my brother has a mother just like mine..
A convincing deduction, I must admit...
But what are we to do? I don`t know how those women even get us stocky
and cap-tipping bullies from out of their ripe Caesarian bellies. And
why? When all they do, years later, is run around department stores
hair died blue as if nothing ever happened....as if we weren't
Hell, most of them don`t even limp from having delivered us, while we...while
we have to keep sucking up.. and trucking.. and ducking.. and..
Better stop right there, little brother of mine!
She breastfed us so we could become nobodies. Last-row, beer-guzzling
stooges, forced into cowardice and thievery.
Some mothers seem to carry mainly out of habit, Jonathan, and if you
ask me, pretty damn low...
I would be proud of my job here at the Inn, but nobody seems to care,
nobody seems to listen, people always moving away from me. On to better,
bigger things. They never stop a moment, or come towards me, or touch
my arm... And yet, I've never done anything wrong. Like some people
who steal, and who dish out insults and grovel all at once.
I felt good, the first day I spinned the hotel door for Mr. Cobb.
The world smiled me warmly in the face for once. A new job at the Ritz
and who drives up in a long black limousine my very first morning, but
my own brother Jonathan, mockingly smoking a stolen cigar. Mr. Cobb,
his boss, in his income-tux already, and as I would soon discover, as
regular as a clock.
I made sure the Ritz got him, right after his first morning puff...
Nearly every morning he would spin through one of my black lacquered
revolving doors tripping with haste, quickly stop at the newsstand,
buy the early edition, race up to the first floor, to the well-kept,
upper-crust, freshly minted public closet, if you know what I mean.
Auntie, now will you wipe my bum?
...afterwards slowly, even ponderously descending the majestic staircase,
to return to the lobby, only to exit with a dignified, be it a slightly
painful yet satisfied look, as always perspiring somewhat.
Protocol demanded that I assist on everyone of his solemn arrivals and
departures, and he would permit me to gratefully tip myself on my own
gold braids. Still, we at the Ritz...
I gave them all my business. What do the knaves want?
You can say that again. Still, we at the Ritz are most grateful, as
he keeps us in a job.
Aha! You see! Don't tell me about good politics.
AND creating employment, need I say more..
Across the avenue, Cobb observers and others would observe
this spectacle and walk away, inevitably mightily impressed.
VOICES: LOOK! ISN'T THAT COBB? ALREADY ON THE JOB?
In Cobb we trust! Cobb Allmighty... Man, this is getting too much..
GENERAL LAUGHTER: FART FAIR COBB, BE A MAN!
On the job? I rest my case!
I am used to hearing only what I want to hear. And otherwise impressing
everybody was the least and the easiest I could do, already having lost
every single one of their shirts. Admit it Cobb! Admit it! Waldo=s,
the florist, wasn´t the first.
RADIO Voice: BUY! SELL! AND RUN LIKE HELL!
Cobb? Cobb, now that you have had your thrills and measures of bad luck,
isn't time to call it a day...
LAST CALL, SIR!
Sir, the Ritz just rang. They wish to know if severely pouncing, silent
but deadly, stealthy cats truly have nine lives?
Richard, now do I pronounce you well and swell? I=ll take off your little
MBA, after you come up.
Pronounce me all you want, Olive. But not dead.
What are you waiting for, Cobb? In heaven we've got a dental plan, bowling
alleys, apple pie, you can flip shopping centers as long and as often
as you want, and no subpoenas to dodge.
What, no bars, no cigars, no luke warm bellies to ride up
against? Or in reverse: a chance at motherhood? Man, for something like
that, I'll have my ties tubed.. AND my spats. I'll even breastfeed,
if I have to.. At least the first couple of months.
Riding, Cobb? Against bellies? But can you still finish the job?
Ride, ride, ride..
Chauffeur, Doorman, Apache
What? Cobb pissed? Too pissed for love again?
Cobb, is it true what they whisper about you? That you can't finish..
I'm getting wollied, sorry.. worried, about you.
What kind of heaven DID you have in mind, Cobb?
Oh, never mind. Just spare me the cookies, caramels, sick Christmas
You're dreaming. Man, OR you're weird...
I know. I know I'm dreaming, for Christ's sake. Gimme a break...
First thing you got to figure out with whom to speculate. About heaven,
I mean. For one, never listen to a cool, finger flicking saint who doesn't
Naivete is no longer a quality, it is not innocence, but a form of cowardice,
Oh, stop it, you bully. What the hell makes you so smart? Where are
you when the chips are down, when the glare is too strong, when the
pressure is on, when oblivion is out, when it seems everything=s lost,
when all that=s left, is just a little fun!
You=re stealing it, Cobb. All of it.
Don´t blame me, don´t blame the rest.
You still won´t listen, but it´s larceny, it=s theft.
. All I want is peace, peace of mind, a little piece of this, a piece
That's the problem, brother. You want, and you want, but you don't give.
Bartender, pour me another drink. This man is beginning to annoy me.
What a guy. Inventing me, then getting ME on his nerves. Like that Indian
over there, the only other one he has't actually met either, but who
sure stalks about that deeply embarrassed mind of his.
Painful stuff. But old Pete's got it right. Well, well, we're slowly
Never waiver child.. That's how you will succeed.
But Auntie, everyone is stopping me all the time.
Cobb? Richard Cobb, my estranged husband? Who forgot to grow up, victim
of his own futile fray: is that really you?
This incredible crowd, popping in and popping out the riotous night...They
push and they pull and they are all largely right! But let us continue
this amazing act, for just another... spell.
life can never be the same!
For once, Chief Sitting Duck, though vanquished and vanishing, I think
your are totally right.
Lone Wolf, to you!
I miss the squaw, sugaring off her maple and brave. But they sold her on
suds, on tampons, on laxatives and hairspray, leaving me lusting for
Nobody, nobody listens to me either, but I get to listen to a high-fiving,
fork-tongued, Chevrolet shining, jumper-cable and empty coke bottle
man, in the bleeding-heart, white man's mind.
Come off it, you just double-parked your pick-up truck. But never mind,
for I too divine. And I divine Miss Olive and her fat, plutonium wallet
may be ready to swim up river and spawn...
Is this the hour of arousal, brother? Then drive him fast. Drive, drive
him like Prokofiev!
Winston, what a smashing idea. Perhaps we can also determine the whereabouts
of my pay-cheque, listed missing in action.. Young Mr. Cobb's action,
Ssst! Everybody! I hear a sound!
With your ear to the ground, Apache, what do you reckon..?
Look, Nestor, a real Indian! Hey, brave, how long have you been in this
neck of the woods?
All day, and all of the centuries, little boy. Like all other times.
Now be quiet... Something`s coming down the thundering trail!
A flat-footed snail?
Ssst! There can be no mistake. It is.. YES, it is a bouncing cheque!
Chauffeur & Doorman
A good thing we're up-wind..
Run, Nestor, it's getting treacherous out here.
I don`t know, Olive, my love... Me and the times, we are a-changing...
Too much pressure, too much pressure... Tell me, how is your dear, dear
She is Olive and well, Mr. Cobb. Remember your wise old soldier-father.
Don't bomb the old bridge, before the new one has been destroyed, or
something like that... Don't let Miss Olive go, because of some belated,
insane feeling of guilt.. Remember the general situation, Sir. We are
fairly broke and I wouldn't ever want to work for the filthy poor...
Dammit, Jonathan! Don't tempt me. I still happen to be married, you
nasty, little man. But then again, maybe Olive would like to be taken for
a ride, letting me feel her wallet just once.
You got it, Sir.
Are we OK for gas...?
If we jack up the car on one side, the meter might show there´s
a little bit left...
Good, one problem solved.
I=m sure we=ll make it ten more blocks
How far=s the Ritz..?
Whatever you say, Sir.
Life=s simple in the end.
Ah, the end=s best avoided, Sir. Since Mrs. Cobb has poured all her
resources into her charities and the Museum it seems, it´s now
a matter of throwing in the towel, or throw in the Olive, I mean.
I blamed everybody for everything, as you can readily hear. Carmen,
the market, the polls, the staff...I wheeled and I dealed, only to forget
Hitch her up and ride her right, and on..and on..forever!!!
Ricky, this is your soothing auntie, are you reading the right books?
The things you say, sweet, child.
Cobb? Richard Cobb, are you still there? I haven=t given up, you know..
Do you like my `do? Believe it or not, I did it for you, I did it for
you. And not for my secret, soft-stroking cellist at the Ladies' Morning
I was tired of hairdressers, of laundered desires and pot-holed drives...
Olive presented me with a welcome and tempting, temporary solution...
He thought she was in socks and bounds! Leaps, anything to enlarge his
Ricky, let me take off your socks..
I like your chest, I like your chin. You will look well in my condominium,
beside the pale mother-of-pearl inlaid table, designed to withstand
the weight of your immortal bourbon glass..
I drove them quickly to her house. He was relaxed, already much relieved
from his visit to the Ritz, and beginning to feel amorous.
I thought she would immediately be open to ingestion, but first she
wanted to talk... A lot!
He was hoping she=d swallow his pride...
The beauty and the yeast!
The booty and the beast!
I proved them all wrong, the swines.
That's what we have to do. Prove them wrong.
Doesn't anyone here know who Cautantowwit is?
The sage spirit?
Who the people of the flint are?
What happened to the thunderbird?
The burning sweetgrass?
The pungent musk?
The wampum bead?
The roots 'n shoots of watercress? Where have they all ended up?
Mind you, we can't always blame the other guy. WE should decide whether
we're going to hunt and trade, or watch satellite T.V. all day, and
But why am I wasting my breath? Because I should be saying this in MY
dream, not his.
Maybe that's the problem with me: I don't dream, or if I do, not enough.
Hoping, just hoping=s not good. Hoping=s not dreaming, for heaving a
dream=s the strongest thing there is. Stronger than the breath of the
volcano, or the might of riverfalls. Hope's just hope. Hopes comes cheap.
But a dream. A dream...
Never mind, all I know is that buffalo and noses run in families.. Just
Hey, Apache! I don't think it'll moose, but d'you think it might reindeer?
Stop! Freeze! Hold it!
Slow, Nestor, slow! We're going so fast, we're missing everything!
What is all this nonsense! What is everybody complaining about? What
have I got to do with any of this?
Why do I figure in everyone`s disillusion, beside my own? No wonder
I`m so bloody tired.
Futures were women he had not yet possessed, not even in his dreams,
or mine. Once, capital stains were all he cared about.
RADIO Voice: COKE UP 1/8, OLD-COBB DOWNS ANOTHER QUART
The flick of the finger man, looking for the fast flop-down-and fold-open
But I=m more interested in capital gain than in capital stain, and was
hoping he may even help me take in a bit of Barth and Wittgenstein,
to judge by his smart clothes.
The darling big-game, big-name, big-buck Oriental woman...
Oh, I remember that time. For once I was stuck for words but what could
I tell Olive? Nobody has ever told me where all our body-hair has gone,
except for the pubic part. Which Wittgenstein could not explain, let
Walt Disney, now there's a guy who knows everything. Ha, I know what
I'm talking about. I'm no fool, I'll have you know.
So he didn't even get to lick her stamps..
At first I would not let you, Rick. But now that I love you..
I'll let you do everything!
Oh, darling, I don't know any more... First let me pass through this
night... Then we'll see what happens! All right?
Questions, questions, and ever deeper into the quagmire: torrential
rains on the mind, savage noon news-breaks, chipped digital clocks,
jolts, tolls, tokens, taxies, taxes, and tabs, fashions and fads, plus
the punch-punctured market up-dates Hopkins would demand every bloody
minute, when he could surely read those maliciously whispering, nerve-shattering,
spewing printouts on his own.
The cardinal point here, for all of us, not just for me, is when the
first of those doubts, those horrible, those painful doubts refused
to be put aside, like plastic chairs, on a slippery dancefloor, we must
Ha, so it ISn=t my fault that I'd rather have a female, than an E-Mail..
Rick, it`s me. Your Little Auntie Acid. Don`t wake up just yet. Relax
some more. And let me be a small part of this...
Oh, Auntie, don`t tell me at my age I still need you.
I am just your loving little auntie, Ricky.
Yes, but before you should ask, dear Auntie, let me tell you right away,
I never wet my bed anymore, now I simply perspire
I know, Ricky, I know. But perspire in the bathroom, from now on,
I felt I was a man in decline... Failed and afraid... Abandoned by monument,
myth, rite and shrine, awaited by digging, messianic mole and worm..
You finally got it, Cobb. Go on.
God, I'm wet. How do I get out of here? Carmen! Carmen, please come
and get me!
Ricky, you think me forlorn.. Oh, silly dreaming, fantasizing man of
mine... Sometimes I think you need to feel guilt for having chased unobtainable
women and careless careers, so you put me there, where you like to think
I pine away the time... But I love you anyway, even with that sweet
stroking, secret late morning cellist of mine...
Carmen! Quit sitting next to the scarcely plumed,
slumbering Phallus Bird you sculpted yourself. Whom you wanted to mount
and then put in a cage, captured, kept. ME.
A what? A Phallus Bird? Ricky, no modern girl should be without a Ph.B.
Not even me?
Here everybody forgets about me.
Hah! Look at its ridiculous head, burrowed deep against the claws-as-testicles,
behind the RARA AVIS sign you drew, one long and lonely night and possibly
the only thing you can't erect all by yourself, or you would have done
Easy, easy, man.
I used to love so fluently..
Do you hear me?
Poor little Richard. Trying so hard to be a man. He came from nowhere.
I took him in. He still walked around the way his aunt had dressed him.
I fed him. I felt him. Taught him how to love. Gave him pocket-money,
a limousine, and a couple of jobs...
Far, fast journeys, sacrifice upon sacrifice... How much can a man accomplish?
Wowing the crowds like that... Man, look at them! Look, look at them,
looking at me!
Rock-a-bye-Ricky, worked so darn hard.. Shall I get you some toast with
honey, tea, and warm, dry clothes? Wouldn`t you like to be auntie-dressed
again, my dear little man?
Carmen, oh Carmen! Woman of black chiffon dress ... All that you really
ever wanted was a life of your own... Mine.
Richard Cobb! I know I`m here to soothe you, but how could you say those
things about Carmen, such a modern girl, who let you do everything.
Never give men all they want, it kills everything.
The good thing about Olive is with her money nods first,
Sir, think of it. She may well give us another start.
I own four buildings, a condominium, three cars, and two oriental geldings...
I think a million lasts longer than a love affair! But now I have the
first, I`m ready for a baby and a man...
I know a man, who fears to be my life..
I always get what I want, because I tittilate and tantalize!
You can tuck in your glands, honey! He's still mine.
I have so little, how do I get an honest man? I have a feeling this
room's not so empty afterall, I just feel, sense a lot of vibes..
Jonathan, is Cobb nuts over Olive?
Not yet, Winston, but he's beginning to stir. I'm working on him.
Animals jump to the rustle, but squaws stir to our scent ..
Carmen? Do I hear you stirring again?
I`m here. Stuck in the bath!
Be patient, Ricky.If no one else will, your auntie `ll take
care of you. Here`s your slender, tender towel. Ricky do you exercise?
Is your underwear less than tight?
You see, that's what happens. I overfed on erroganous pressure designed
to colonize, on my own and my boss Hopkins' greed, on satellites, on
limousines, on take off`s and on landings, on past, on future, bogies
and birdies, noble causes, bonds, clocks and traffic lights...
Time to call it a day, Mr. Cobb!
Ricky, won't you learn how to fly to a different feather? Other, than
according to the market, the weather and the pressure of your bladder?
Damn! It is not easy waking up in such a small tub. Look at my tuxedo.
All wet and rumpled. Doesn't anybody care?
Ricky, the door is still wide open. If you want to grow up, and in my
Where am I, anyway? What is happening to me? Am I in a bath, or on a
meadow, near a fabled lake or something? Damn! Someone save me... Save
me from chauffeurs dressed in limousines, and from doormen in lobbies.
From lost cowboys and from near-forgotten indians, from wives in pain,
from lovers and speculators in vain, from fake saints who toy with death..
That is not how it was, Cobb...I`m fine, I want you to know!
No, no, first let me remember it my way. Don't shut me up. Cobb be honest,
don`t trust the truth.. any truth.. for there are many.
Ricky, your daddie, the General called..
Who? General Drift?
General Cobb, your father!
Bet you he hasn't saluted in a long time...
Here! Have a medal.. Have a flag...
The fatherly fool who is the author of my bellicose side, the one who
never showed me the evening primrose, nor the blessings of the water-lilly...
The one who never showed, period. From this rafter, I see, I hear everything
so clearly all of a sudden...
Tell him I have to give a speech to the National Carwash Federation...
I hope the dollar will hold..
RADIO Voice: DOLLAR PLUNGES, PRIME RATE DIVES
Quick, someone, hand me a towel!
The last time I saluted was at my son`s sexual awakening..
Someone....get me out of here.. Before Daddy catches me!
It was right after noon drill, at precisely twelve thirty seven, I`d
come in unexpectedly..
He would watch me... as if there were eclipse, through a piece of flame-stained
(OUT OF BREATH)(PANTING)
Nestor, when you move so fast, it burns right here,
between my legs..
I wanted my son to go into the military, strong on discipline! But he
thought he=d had it made, taking the easy way, marrying rich, before
slipping up and fighting the Ritz, instead of the real enemy. And putting
ME in a home, as soon as he could. Where all I eat is assassinated chicken...
Rick, why did you put me away?
We should have poised to take the Whitehouse, poised to chase Manhattan,
after Niagara falls!
Hush, old soldier, first wash your warhead, then take your nap..
It's all right, Dad. It's all right. I guess it wasn't all your fault.
I used to think I deserved to play. But my supposed
entitlement and other pastries are the things that did me in. Still,
I am trying to stare down hard, to dig deep, in this pow-wow of my inner
Cobb, will you be coming home?
Ricky come home now, it's dinner time.
You put me in a home, son...
Home? Where is home?
Where the dogwood is?
The seawood, near the coast?
These white people are like two-headed, cosmic monsters. Struggling
to bite off their own evil other head. But half the time and sometimes
unwittingly, killing me in the process...
What a flaming drag.
A gentle bar's a home away from home, but not for heathens like thieving
chauffeurs and their twins.
3465 St.Matthew 904....
Ritz, Ritz on the range. Where the Cobbs and the mobs tend to roam..
And where never is heard, a discouraging word...
Unless the Anti-Christ sings, of course. What do you think, Mr. Cobb?
Sure, keep throwing, keep flinging it at me, from everywhere, from all
sides, all day, all the damn night long.
Why doesn`t the Trib' write about me anymore? After all that I`ve done.
The news not only used to make me, I made the news: orally, anally,
however inanely ...
Is everything a lie, Richard? Sometimes I'm afraid. That is why I want
you home, safe and sound. Just take yourself out of my imaginary cage.
That pedestal, the cage.... The way she suffocated me.. Or that's how
it seemed to me at the time.. Once, I remember, I even called her Carmen
Monoxide. But I was wrong.
Holy Christ, it's 7.99!
I've got to get up! I've got to get out!
Why am I always so utterly expected... At the polls, at home, in other
beds, bars, the 'exchange... every other damn where.
LET ME OUT!
Cobb! No way. Stay. Stay where you are. All's not finished, all's not
done. After these interior tremors, you must take me to the outside.
For this story is only beginning to unravel. You've waited so long,
give me at least this one racing night to help sort things out. To pass
life and loves, past and present over. Without getting ingrained appetites
whetted all over again...!
END PART 1