Mickey Rourke Monologues

Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.

This is a world where everybody's gotta do something. Y'know, somebody laid down this rule that everybody's gotta do something, they gotta be something. You know, a dentist, a glider pilot, a narc, a janitor, a preacher, all that.

Sometimes I just get tired of thinking of all the things that I don't wanna do. All the things that I don't wanna be. Places I don't wanna go, like India, like getting my teeth cleaned. Save the whale, all that, I don't understand that.

Anybody can be a non-drunk. It takes a special talent to be a drunk. It takes endurance. Endurance is more important than truth.

And as my hands drop the last desperate pen, in some cheap room, they will find me there and never know my name, my meaning, nor the treasure of my escape.

Nobody who ever wrote anything worth a damn could ever write in peace... Jesus.

Nothing but the dripping sink. Empty bottle. Euphoria. Youth fenced in, stabbed and shaved. Taut words propped up to die

I remember ordering a draft, barkeep. What, are you out of brew, or has that lobotomy finally taken hold?

This thing upon me, like a flower and a feast. This thing upon me, crawling like a snake. It's not death, but dying will solve it's power. And as my hands drop the last desperate pen, in some cheap room, they will find me there. I never know my name, my meaning, nor the treasure of my escape.

The only place I get hurt is out there. The world don't give a shit about me.

I just want to tell you, I'm the one who was supposed to take care of everything. I'm the one who was supposed to make everything okay for everybody. It just didn't work out like that. And I left. I left you. You never did anything wrong. I used to try to forget about you. I used to try to pretend that you didn't exist, but I can't. You're my girl. You're my little girl. And now, I'm an old broken down piece of meat... and I'm alone. And I deserve to be all alone. I just don't want you to hate me.

When you live hard and you play hard and burn the candle at both ends… in this life, you can lose everything you love, everything that loves you. Alot of people told me that I'd never wrestle again, they said "he's washed up", "he's finished" , "he's a loser", "he's all through". You know what? The only ones gonna tell me when I'm through doing my thing, is you people here. You people here… you people here. You're my family.

I just want to say to you all tonight I'm very grateful to be here. A lot of people told me that I'd never wrestle again and that's all I do. You know, if you live hard and play hard and you burn the candle at both ends, you pay the price for it. You know in this life you can loose everything you love, everything that loves you. Now I don't hear as good as I used to and I forget stuff and I aint as pretty as I used to be but god damn it I'm still standing here and I'm The Ram. As times goes by, as times goes by, they say "he's washed up", "he's finished" , "he's a loser", "he's all through". You know what? The only one that's going to tell me when I'm through doing my thing is you people here.

The night's as hot as hell. It's a lousy room in a lousy part of a lousy town - I'm staring at a goddess. She's telling me she wants me. I'm not going to waste one more minute wondering how I've gotten this lucky. She smells like angels ought to smell, the perfect woman... the Goddess. Goldie. She says her name is Goldie.

That there is one damn fine coat you're wearin'.

I'll stare the bastard in the face as he screams to God, and I'll laugh harder when he whimpers like a baby. And when his eyes go dead, the hell I send him to will seem like heaven after what I've done to him.

This is blood for blood and by the gallons. These are the old days man, the bad days, the all-or-nothing days. They're back! There's no choices left. And I'm ready for war.

Hell's waking up every goddamn day and not even knowing why you're here. But I'm out now. It took someone who was kind to me getting killed to do it. But I'm out. And I know exactly what I'm gonna do.

He never screams. Even after the dog has its fill and his guts are hanging out, he never screams.

I'm on my feet for about ten minutes before the cops kick them out from under me. They don't ask me any questions. They just keep knocking the crap out of me and waving a confession in my face. And I keep spitting blood all over it and laughing at how many fresh copies they come up with. Then along comes this worm assistant district attorney who turns the recorder off and says if I don't sign their confession, they'll kill my mom. I break his arm in three places and I sign it.

I don't know why you died, Goldie. I don't know why and I don't know how, I never even met you before tonight. But you were a friend and more when I needed one. And when I find out who did it, it won't be quick and quiet like it was with you. It'll be loud and nasty. My kind of kill. And when his eyes go dead the hell I send him to will seem like heaven after what I've done to him. I love you, Goldie.

So, you were scared, weren't you Goldie? Somebody wanted you dead and you knew it. Well, I'm gonna find that son of a bitch that killed you, and I'm gonna give him the hard goodbye. Walk down the right back alley in Sin City, and you can find anything.

You crazy god-damn broad! Just take a look at this mug. Would any of you dames let me get close enough to you to kill you? None of you would, but Goldie… But she only did because she thought I could protect her. And I bet those cops didn't do a damn thing about those other girls, did they? But as soon as they had me for a fall guy they showed up, guns blazing. But they didn't get me and I've been killing my way to the truth ever since. So go ahead, doll, shoot me now, or get the hell out of my way.

I've been having so much fun I forgot to take my medicine.

I've been framed for murder and the cops are in on it. But the real enemy, the son of a bitch who killed the angel lying next to me, he's out there somewhere, out of sight, the big missing piece that'll give me the how and the why and a face and a name and a soul to send screaming into hell.

What if I'm wrong? I've got a condition. I get confused sometimes. What if I've imagined all this? What if I've finally turned into what they've always said I would turn into? A maniac. A psycho killer.