A Love Song for Bobby Long Page #5
Your mama loved you, you know?
She used to sit
right where you're sitting now.
Always writing.
Called this granddaddy the Tree of Life.
That's so corny.
- You're in the wrong appliance.
- What?
To succeed in killing oneself,
one must be in the oven.
God damn, girl. You woke up productive.
- Come see what Pursey did.
- Christ. Stop yelling.
I see what she didn't do: Leave.
She ain't gonna leave.
That's a really good look for you, too.
Good morning to y'all, too.
No school, I hear. What, you skip a grade?
A few. The 10th, 11th, and 12th.
Do you mind?
God, we are living under the same roof
as a goddamn dropout.
It takes one to mock one.
At least I can support myself.
Look, as long as
you're not lazing around here...
making Lawson lose his concentration,
I do not care what you do.
You got work to do.
Do you have to go after her
like that, relentlessly?
Do you want her to stick around?
Is that what you want?
Has it ever occurred to you that if we help
her get on her feet, she might move on?
How help her?
You want to help her out of
them tight little pants. That's what you want.
- Forget it, man, all right?
- Forgotten.
A New Orleans summer
drowns in thick, dank stillness.
Come on, man, let's play gin.
- Can't you see us doing something here?
- To hell with you.
Lorraine's house shrank with each
passing day, straining uneasy walls closer.
Turn that music off, girl!
Can't you see he's working?
Jesus H. Christ.
How long you gonna sit around here
smoking up our cigarette money?
Lawson said he didn't mind.
Lawson's cigarettes are red. Mine are green.
You may not smoke green. Bobby's.
What is that sh*t you are drinking?
God, it reeks.
This is beer and tomato juice.
Breakfast of champions.
Champion fuckup, maybe.
You know, girl, I have had
just about enough of your bad attitude.
Whether you like it or not,
I am the senior male in this house...
and you will respect me!
We have been very patient
out of respect for Lorraine...
but you will not continue
to lay around here...
and play parasite to our generosity.
Now, you must work
as if you're gonna live 100 years...
and pray as if you're gonna die tomorrow.
- What did you say?
- Ben Franklin said it.
coming from him.
You know damn well
I've been looking for a job.
God, what do you do? Except sh*t around
and talk about how smart you used to be.
I am a professor. I am a troubadour. A poet.
And it's none of your damn business
how we live.
- You are responsible for your share.
- My share?
You already live in my house for free.
- God, you should be grateful...
- This is our house!
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"A Love Song for Bobby Long" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 18 May 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/a_love_song_for_bobby_long_1958>.
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