John Cusack Monologues

It's locked! Good! This is very good! It's important that this place should have an air-tight security system... in the middle of nowhere!

Credit cards work on a completely different kind of lock.

You have a credit card?

…Driving with the load not properly tied down.

Thanks for the ride. I've been out here all day. I'm not interrupting anything am I?

Oh. It's not easy getting rides. Do you know what I mean? I mean most people are real afraid to pick up hitchhikers. I mean you never know who you might pick up. I mean I could be some crazed slime ball. I mean a real deranged, violent psycho. You know what I mean? I mean a guy who would rip out your heart and eat it

just for pleasure.

I'm talking about a total maniac! You know what I mean?

DO YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN?

Sorry I'm late. There was this big problem… and I'm late because of it.

Elliot? You're gonna name the kid Elliot? No, you can't name the kid Elliot. Elliot is a fat kid with glasses who eats paste. You're not gonna name the kid Elliot. You gotta give him a real name. Give him a name. Like Nick.

Yeah, Nick. Nick's a real name. Nick's your buddy. Nick's the kind of guy you can trust, the kind of guy you can drink a beer with, the kind of guy who doesn't mind if you puke in his car, Nick!

I flunk English, I'm outta here. Kiss college goodbye. I don't know what I'll do. Dad will be pissed off. Mom will be heartbroken. If I play my cards right, I get maybe a six-month grace period and then I gotta get a job, and you know what that means.

That's right, they start me at the drive-up window and I gradually work my way up from shakes to burgers, and then one day my lucky break comes: the french fry guy dies and they offer me the job! But the day I'm supposed to start, some men come by in a black Lincoln Continental and tell me I can make a quick 300 just for driving a van back from Mexico! When I get out of jail I'm 36 years old. Living in a flop house. No job. No home. No upward mobility. Very few teeth. And then one day they find me, face down, talking to the gutter, clutching a bottle of paint thinner. And why? Because you wouldn't help me in English, no! You were too busy to help me! Too busy to help a drowning man!

Consider outer space. You know, from the time of the first NASA mission, it was clear that outer space has a clear effect on the human psyche. Why, during the first Gemini mission, thought was actually given to sending up a man and a woman... together.

A cosmic 'Adam and Eve,' if you will. Bound together by fate, situated on the most powerful rocket yet known to man. It's giant thrusters blasting them into the dark void, as they hurtle towards their final destination: the gushing wellspring of life itself.

How would you like to have a sexual encounter so intense it could conceivably change your political views?

You know, I've never met anyone like you before. Usually when I meet someone new I feel awkward and shy. But with you it's different. I can talk to you. You know what I'm thinking without my having to explain to you in fancy terms. We speak each other's unspoken language... fluently. I love you.

What the hell's wrong with being stupid once in awhile? Does everything you do always have to be sensible? Haven't you ever thrown waterballoons off a roof? When you were a little kid didn't you ever sprinkle Ivory flakes on the living room floor 'cause you wanted to make it snow in July? Didn't you ever get really shitfaced and maybe make a complete fool of yourself and still have an excellent time?

You know, junk food doesn't deserve the bad rap that it gets. Take these pork rinds for example. This particular brand contains two percent of the R.D.A. - that's Recommended Daily Allowance - of riboflavin.

How's this for an opening line: "Did you know that Nietzsche died of syphilis?"

Z-u-c-h-i-n-i. No, Nietzsche's too obscure. Umm… how about: "Did you know that Shakespeare died of syphilis?" No, she probably knows that isn't true. I don't know what to say.

I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that.

She broke up with me. What do I do? Can she come back? How can I get her back? I can't - I can't get her to talk to me. It's all so fucked up. I feel like crying. She gave me a pen. I gave her my heart and she gave me a pen.

I got a question. If you guys know so much about women, how come you're here at like the Gas 'n' Sip on a Saturday night completely alone drinking beers with no women anywhere?

What I really want to do with my life - what I want to do for a living - is I want to be with your daughter. I'm good at it.

"Maybe I didn't really know you. Maybe you were just a mirage. Maybe the world is full of food and sex and spectacle and we're all just hurling towards an apocalypse, in which case it's not your fault. I'm been thinking about all these things and... you're probably standing there monitoring. And one more thing - about the letter. Nuke it. Flame it. Destroy it. - It hurts me to know it's out there. Later."

How many of them really know what they want, though? I mean, a lot of them think they have to know, right? But inside they don't really know, so... I don't know ,but I know that I don't know.

Just knowing that a version like that exists, knowing that just for a minute she felt that and wrote "I can't help loving you". That has be a good thing.

One question: are you here 'cause you need someone, or 'cause you need me?… Forget it, I don't care.

Okay, how ya doing? I'm Lloyd, and we're gonna watch the movie "Cocoon." I've never actually seen it, but I heard it's very good, it makes you happy, thats a good thing. It's about a group of older people who go to outer space... hope I didnt give anything away there.

Except for one thing. I used to work at a smorgasbord and the old people would flock there and they love to eat. And they just jammed their mouths, you know, and they would just eat with their mouths open and, you know, it's just too much for me. I mean, you know, you get to be thinking about how short life is and how maybe everything has no meaning. Because, you wake up and you're frying burgers and you then you're like 60 and 70 and then, you know, you check out and, you know, what are you doing? And I just don't need to think about those kind of things. So, that - that's the reason I was - But, I'm not sure I'm right, about any of that.

I felt like I wanted to tell you something but I didn't put it in the letter. And, I didn't say it, but, I think I want to say it now. But I'm not sure if I should say it, you know. Because, people always say it but they don't mean it. But, I think that I mean it. So...

It's me. I'm cruising around. It's pretty late. You know, I haven't called you lately. I guess I didn't wanna be reminded of the Diane nightmare. By the way, I hardly remember her. I've wiped her from my mind. I don't remember when the time or place I knew her. This is it. The site of our controversial first date. I met her in a mall. I should've known our relationship was doomed. To our left, we have - the street where she broke up with me! And there's the path we took.

I think I know too many girls! You know, I should hang with more guys. I should be like one of those guys who hang at the AM-PM Gas 'n' Sip on Saturday. But, I don't know, do guys like that really know the answers?

Are you going to to go to that party at Vahlere's? Look, Diane, I'm sorry but I can't allow you to leave the country without going to Vahlere's graduation tonight. This gentleman is 22 and comes out of hiding once a year for this occasion and he dresses up as the Lakeside Rooster. And he makes this drink called the Purple Passion.

They all have husbands and wives and children and houses and dogs, and, you know, they've all made themselves a part of something and they can talk about what they do. What am I gonna say? "I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork. How've you been?"

Don't you think that maybe you're just upset because I told you what I do for a living, and you got upset and *you're* letting it interfere with *our* dynamic?

A thousand innocent people get killed every day! But a millionaire's pet gets detonated, and you're marked for life.

No, no. Psychopaths kill for no reason. I kill for money. It's a job. That didn't come out right.

No no no, I went the other road. Six figures, doing business with leadpipe cruelty, mercenary sensibility. You know... sports, sex, no real relationships with anyone. How about you, how have the years been treating you?

When I left, I joined the Army, and when I took the service exam, my psych profile fit a certain… "moral flexibility" would be the only way to describe it. I was loaned out to a CIA-sponsored program and we sort of found each other. That's the way it works.

Yes, I mean no. I was before but I'm not now… but that' all irrelevant, really. The idea of government, nations is public relations theory at this point.

Dr. Oatman, please pick up, pick up! It's Martin Blank! I, I'm standing where my, uh, living room was and it's not here because my house is gone and it's an Ultimart! You can never go home again, Oatman... but I guess you can shop there.

Hi. I'm, uh, I'm a pet psychiatrist. I sell couch insurance. Mm-hmm, and I - and I test-market positive thinking. I lead a weekend men's group, we specialize in ritual killings. Yeah, you look great! God, yeah! Hi, how are you? Hi, how are you? Hi, I'm Martin Blank, you remember me? I'm not married, I don't have any kids, but I'd blow your head off if someone paid me enough.

Debi, I'm in love with you! And I know we can make this relationship work.

There's a contract out on your life. Believe me. I was hired to kill you, but I'm not going to do it. It's either because I'm in love with your daughter or because I have a newfound respect for life.

Oh, the reason I called... Could you find out who else is in town? I've made two spooks and a ghoul already, so if they've double-booked the job, and/or they're going to kill me, I'd like to know. If you could find that out, that'd be great.

Do you really believe that there's some stored up conflict that exists between us? There is no us. We don't exist. So who do you wanna hit, man? It's not me. Now whaddya wanna do here, man?

I was sitting there alone on prom night, in a goddamn rented tuxedo, and my whole life flashed before my eyes. And I realized finally, and for the first time, that I wanted to kill somebody. So I figured since I loved you so much, it'd be a good idea if I didn't see you anymore.

They're right behind us. So I was in the Gulf last year, I was doing this thing anyway. And I came up over this dune, and I saw the ocean… and it was on fire. The whole thing, on fire, and it was beautiful. So I just sat there and watched it, and that's when I realized there might be a meaning to life, you know, like an organic power that connects all living things, God, Yahweh, I dunno.

Some of these guys need some kind of ethical philosophy to justify it, some guys like "live free or die," but that's all bullshit, I know that now, that's all bullshit. You do it because you were trained to do it, because you were encouraged to do it, and because, eventually, you, you know… get to like it.

I know that sounds bad...

Ah, Budro, yes, Budro, Jesus Christ! Yeah, I was out there tryin' to whack these junk bond fuckos and these idiots were flushing game with sticks of dynamite! And the dog that they borrowed, little Budro, was a retriever, get it? Budro was never a target, Budro was acting on instinct. I would never hurt an animal and I'm offended at the accusation…

Oatman? Don't hang up. Listen, I didn't kill anyone - except some guy tried to kill me, so if I see that guy again, I'm definitely gonna kill him, but I'm not going to kill anybody else. I'm on my way to the reunion now with Debi, but I'm just a little nervous, and I'd like to do a phoner.

"The degree of civilization in a society can be judged by observing its prisoners." Dostevsky said that... after doin' a little time.

This one's done it all: kidnapping, robbery, murder, extortion.

His name is Cyrus Grissom, A.K.A. Cyrus the Virus. Thirty-nine years old, twenty-five of them spent in our institutions. But he's bettered himself inside. Earned two degrees, including his juris doctorate. He also killed eleven fellow inmates, incited three riots, and escaped twice. Likes to brag that he killed more men than cancer.

Cyrus is a poster child for the criminally insane. He's a true product of the system.

No, but I can point a few fingers if it would make you feel comfortable.

If you can't trust a South American drug lord, who can you trust, huh?

We pick up Mr. Cindino in Carson City. From then until the plane hits Alabama, we've got two hours to get him to talk. We got you a seat right next to him, and he's known to be somewhat garrulous in the company of thieves.

That would be loquacious, verbose, effusive. How about chatty?

"Thesaurus Boy" I think is more appropriate.

You with me or do you need me to draw it in crayon like usual?

Here's the jacket on Cameron Poe. His wife's on the way here now. A U.S. Ranger, highly decorated. Did a litte hellraising when he was a kid, but nothing serious.

Fact 1: we've got a plane up there filled with killers, rapists, and thieves and we've got this guy Cameron Poe: in on an involuntary manslaughter beef, non-gang affiliated. He's a parolee hitching a ride home. Fact 2: Poe has a chance to get off the plane, doesn't do it. Why? Fact 3: our guard Falzon said a convict named Cameron Poe planted Sims's tape recorder on him.

These are interesting facts. You do the math on this... and we got an ally on that plane.

Nathan Jones, A.K.A. Diamond Dog. Former general of the Black Guerillas. He blew up a meeting of the National Rifle Association saying, and I quote, "They represented the basest negativity of the white race." He wrote a book in prison called, "Reflections in a Diamond Eye." New York Times called it a wakeup call for the black community. They're talking to Denzel for the movie.

Well, we told you today's flight would be special. That's William Bedford, aka "Billy Bedlam."

The same. He caught his wife in bed with another man. Left her alone, drove four towns over to his wife's family's house. Killed her parents, her brothers, her sisters, even her dog.

What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?

Top five things I miss about Laura. One; sense of humor. Very dry, but it can also be warm and forgiving. And she's got one of the best all time laughs in the history of all time laughs, she laughs with her entire body. Two; she's got character. Or at least she had character before the Ian nightmare. She's loyal and honest, and she doesn't even take it out on people when she's having a bad day. That's character.

I miss her smell, and the way she tastes. It's a mystery of human chemistry and I don't understand it, some people, as far as their senses are concerned, just feel like home.

I really dig how she walks around. It's like she doesn't care how she looks or what she projects and it's not that she doesn't care it's just, she's not affected I guess, and that gives her grace. And five; she does this thing in bed when she can't get to sleep, she kinda half moans and then rubs her feet together an equal number of times... it just kills me. Believe me, I mean, I could do a top five things about her that drive me crazy but it's just your garden variety women you know, schizo stuff and that's the kind of thing that got me here.

Sometimes I got so bored of trying to touch her breast that I would try to touch her between her legs. It was like trying to borrow a dollar, getting turned down, and asking for 50 grand instead.

…I agreed that what really matters is what you like, not what you are like… Books, records, films - these things matter. Call me shallow but it's the fuckin' truth, and by this measure I was having one of the best dates of my life.

That other girl, or other women, whatever... I mean, I was thinking that they're just fantasies. You know? And they always seem really great because there's never any problems. And if there are, they're cute problems like, you know, we bought each other the same Christmas present, or she wants to go see a movie that I've already seen, you know? And then I come home, and you and I have real problems... and you don't even want to see the movie I want to see, period. There's no lingerie and...

Yes, you do. You have great lingerie, but you also have the cotton underwear that's been washed a thousand times, and it's hanging on the thing and, and they have it too! It's just I don't have to see it because it's not in the fantasy. Do you understand? I'm tired of the fantasy because it doesn't really exist. And there are never really any surprises, and it never really...

The making of a great compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do and takes ages longer than it might seem. You gotta kick off with a killer, to grab attention. Then you got to take it up a notch, but you don't wanna blow your wad, so then you got to cool it off a notch. There are a lot of rules. Anyway... I've started to make a tape... in my head... for Laura. Full of stuff she likes. Full of stuff that make her happy. For the first time I can sort of see how that is done.

So, what am I gonna do now? Just keep jumping from rock to rock, for the rest of my life, until they're not any rocks left? Should I bolt every time I get that feeling in my gut when I meet someone new? Well, I've been listening to my gut since I was 14 years old, and frankly speaking, I've come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains.

I can't fire them. I hired these guys for three days a week and they just started showing up every day. That was four years ago.

I can see now I never really committed to Laura. I always had one foot out the door, and that prevented me from doing a lot of things, like thinking about my future and… I guess it made more sense to commit to nothing, keep my options open. And that's suicide. By tiny, tiny increments.

It made sense to pool our collective loathing for the opposite sex, and while we were at it, you get to share a bed with somebody at the same time. We were frightened of being left alone for the rest of our lives. Only people of a certain disposition are frightened of being alone for the rest of their lives at the age of 26, and we were of that disposition.

Now, the making of a good compilation tape is a very subtle art. Many do's and don'ts. First of all you're using someone else's poetry to express how you feel. This is a delicate thing.

It would be nice to think that since I was 14, times have changed. Relationships have become more sophisticated. Females less cruel. Skins thicker. Instincts more developed. But there seems to be an element of that afternoon in everything that's happened to me since. All my romantic stories are a scrambled version of that first one.

I own this store called Champions Vinyl. It's located in a neighborhood that attracts the bare minimum of window shoppers. I get by because of the people who make a special effort to shop here - mostly young men - who spend all their time looking for deleted Smiths singles and original, not rereleased - underlined - Frank Zappa albums. Fetish properties are not unlike porn. I'd feel guilty taking their money, if I wasn't... well... kinda one of them.

Hey, I'm not the smartest guy in the world, but I'm certainly not the dumbest. I mean, I've read books like "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" and "Love in the Time of Cholera", and I think I've understood them. They're about girls, right? Just kidding. But I have to say my all-time favorite book is Johnny Cash's autobiography "Cash" by Johnny Cash.

You are as abandoned and noisy as any character in a porn film, Laura. You are Ian's plaything, responding to his touch with shrieks of orgasmic delight. No woman in the history of the world is having better sex than sex you are having with Ian... in my head.

My desert island, all-time, top-five most memorable breakups, in chronological order, are as follows: Alison Ashmore; Penny Hardwick; Jackie Alden; Charlie Nicholson; and Sarah Kendrew. Those were the ones that really hurt. Can you see your name on that list, Laura? Maybe you'd sneak into the top ten. But there's just no room for you in the top five, sorry. Those places are reserved for the kind of humiliation and heartbreak you're just not capable of delivering.

Songs at my funeral: "Many Rivers to Cross" by Jimmy Cliff, "Angel" by Aretha Franklin, and I've always had this fantasy that some beautiful, tearful woman would insist on "You're the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me" by Gladys Knight. But who would that woman be?

I could've wound up having sex back there. And what better way to exorcise rejection demons than to screw the person who rejected you, right? But you wouldn't be sleeping with a person, you'd be sleeping with the whole sad, single-person culture. It'd be like sleeping with Talia Shire in Rocky if you weren't Rocky. I feel guilty enough as it is.

Alison married Kevin! I am fine now! Married her junior high school sweetheart: kissed me on the bench, kissed Kevin on the bench - MARRIED Kevin. This is great! This has got nothing to do with me! This is fate, this is destiny; it is beyond my control, beyond my fault. I love this!

Look at these. I used to dream I'd be surrounded by exotic women's underwear forever and ever. Now I know they just save their best pairs for the nights they know they're going to sleep with somebody.

One moment they weren't there - in not any form that interested us, anyway. And, then, the next. We couldn't miss them. They were everywhere. And they'd grown breasts! And we wanted - actually, we didn't even know what we wanted. But, it was something interesting. Disturbing.

And then we made love. It was great. That's it. I'm not going to go into all that other stuff, you know, the who did what to whom stuff. You know that song, "Behind Closed Doors," by Charlie Rich? It's one of my favorite songs. I can say we had a good time. I can say that.