Kick-Ass Monologues

Dave Lizewski is an unnoticed high school student and comic book fan who one day decides to become a superhero, even though he has no powers, training or meaningful reason to do so.

The world I lived in, heroes only existed in comic books, and I guess that would have been okay -- if bad guys were make-believe, too… but they're not.

With no power comes no responsibility -- except… that wasn't true.

I always wondered why nobody did it before me. I mean, all those comic books, movies, TV shows. You think that one eccentric loner would've made himself a costume. I mean, is everyday life really so exciting? Are schools and offices so thrilling that I'm the only one who fantasized about this? Come on, be honest with yourself. At some point in our lives, we all wanna be a superhero.

That's not me, by the way. That's some Armenia guy with a history of mental health problems.

Than three assholes laying into one guy while everybody else watches? And you wanna know what's wrong with me? Yeah, I'd rather die... so bring it on!

Who am I? I'm Kick-Ass!

That's me, back before any of this crazy shit happened. I guess I was the last person you'd expect to become a superhero. I'm not saying there was anything wrong with me, but there's nothing special, either. I wasn't into sports, I wasn't a mathlete or a hardcore gamer. I didn't have a piercing, or an eating disorder, or 3000 friends on MySpace. My only superpower was being invisible to girls -- and, out of my friends, man, I wasn't even the funny one. Like most people my age, I just existed.

What's the difference between Spider-Man and Peter Parker? Spider-Man gets the girl.

Kick-Ass was gone but not forgotten, and my world was much safer with all the new superheroes. They said I was their inspiration, but all I did was make a door into a world I dreamed about since I was a little kid.

This is awesome! I look like frickin' Wolverine!

Even with my metal plates and my fucked up nerve endings, I gotta tell ya, that… hurt -- but not half as much as the idea of leaving everything behind: Katie, my dad, Todd and Marty, and all the things I'd never do, like… learn to drive, or see what me and Katie's kids would look like, or find out what happened on "Lost." And, if you're reassuring yourself that I'm gonna make it through this since I'm talkin' to you now, quit being such a smart-ass. Hell, dude, you never seen "Sin City?" "Sunset Boulevard?" "American Beauty?"

Like every serial killer already knew: eventually fantasizing just doesn't do it for you anymore.

I'll be honest. There wasn't a whole lot of crime-fighting in those first few weeks, but even so, my new vocation kept me plenty busy. I called it preparation, but if you called it fantasizing, it would have been hard to argue. All I knew was... I never felt so good about myself.

Sure, a lot of what got me through the average school day was making deposits in the whack-off warehouse for later; though, to be honest, it didn't take much to set me off. I swear, when my hormones balance out, shares in Kleenex are gonna take a dive, man.