Robert Downey Jr. Monologues

There's been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred on the freeway and the rooftop...

I know that it's confusing. It is one thing to question the official story, and another thing entirely to make wild accusations, or insinuate that I'm a superhero.

Well, good, because that would be outlandish and, uh, fantastic. I'm just not the hero type. Clearly. With this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I've made, largely public.

Iron Man. That's kind of catchy. It's got a nice ring to it. I mean it's not technically accurate. The suit's a gold titanium alloy, but it's kind of provocative, the imagery anyway.

Day 11, Test 37, Configuration 2.0. For lack of a better option, Dummy is still on fire safety.

If you douse me again, and I'm not on fire, I'm donating you to a city college. Seriously, we're just gonna start off with 1% thrust capacity. And three… two… one.

Please don't follow me around with it either because I feel like I'm going to catch on fire spontaneously. Just stand down. If something happens, then come in.

They say that the best weapon is the one you never have to fire. I respectfully disagree. I prefer the weapon you only have to fire once. That's how Dad did it, that's how America does it, and it's worked out pretty well so far. I present to you the newest in Stark Industries' Freedom line. Find an excuse to let one of these off the chain, and I personally guarantee, the bad guys won't even wanna come out of their caves. Ladies and gentlemen, for your consideration... the Jericho.

I feel like you're driving me to court martial. This is crazy. What did I do? I feel like you're gonna pull over and snuff me. What, you're not allowed to talk? Hey, Forrest!

Good God, you're a woman! I honestly, I couldn't have called that. I mean, I would apologize, but isn't that what we're going for here? I thought of you as a soldier first.

Well, you have actually excellent bone structure there. I'm kinda having a hard time not looking at you now. Is that weird?

If I were Iron Man, I'd have this girlfriend who knew my true identity. She'd be a wreck. She'd always be worrying I was going to die, yet so proud of the man I've become. She'd be wildly conflicted, which would only make her more crazy about me…

Okay, let's do this right. Start mark, half a meter and to the right. Dummy, look alive, you're on standby for fire safety. You, roll it. Activate hand controls… okay, we're gonna start off nice and easy. See if 10% thrust capacity achieves lift. In three… two… one…

I never got to say goodbye to my father. There's questions I would've asked him. I would've asked him how he felt about what his company did, if he was conflicted, if he ever had doubts. Or maybe he was every inch of man we remember from the newsreels. I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them. And I saw that I had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero-accountability.

I had my eyes opened. I came to realize that I had more to offer this world than just making things that blow up. And that is why, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries.

No, no. You're fine. You are the most capable, qualified, trustworthy person I've ever met, you'll do great. Is it too much to ask? 'Cause I really need your help here.

Attitude control is a little sluggish above 15,000 meters, I'm guessing icing is the probable cause.

Connect to the cisco. Have it reconfigure the shell metals. Use the gold titanium alloy from the seraphim tactical satellite. That should ensure a fuselage integrity while while maintaining power-to-weight ratio. Got it?

Speaking of manned or unmanned, you gotta get him to tell you about the time he guessed wrong at Spring Break... just remember that. Spring Break, 1987.

I got caught doing a piece for Vanity Fair.

Everyone wants Atticus Finch until there's a dead hooker in a bathtub. Note: Atticus Finch is the lawyer in "To Kill a Mockingbird."

You know, you'd invite people at the end of their parole back to court... You'd *recognize* those who did their time, turned their lives around, made something of themselves. Everyone in the court applauded, and you made sure they did! Tell them how *proud* you were... Proud of *fucking* strangers!

Did you know 90% of the country believes in ghosts? less than a third in evolution? 35% can correctly identify Homer Simpson's fictional town in which he resides, less than 1% knows the name Thurgood Marshall. But… when you put 12 Americans together in a jury and you ask for justice? Something just South of brilliance happens. Often as not, they get it right.

My father is a lot of unpleasant things, but murderer is not one of them.

I don't buy it. It can't be the first time someone's insulted you. It's your job. Why did you go easy on him the first time? Of all the judges in Indiana, the one with the tightest... You gave him 30 days. He threatened her, discharged a firearm at her residence.That's six months. A year. Easy. What was your reasoning? A hundred and 80 days, that's solid. Maybe he'd have cooled off. Maybe he doesn't kill Hope. Maybe we're not here. Of all the years you sat on that bench... all the people that stood before you, the leniency... the understanding, the free ride goes to Mark Blackwell? How do you explain that lapse in judgment?

Right now? I'm a summer breeze. Once I subpoena you, get you on the stand and extract the truth from your ass like tree sap THEN you'll realize in THAT moment, correct, I'm not a pleasant person.

Grandpa Schneider is kind of, you know, nice and affable. He'd maybe take you for ice cream, maybe read to you. Grandpa Palmer doesn't wanna do any of that. If you ask him to read, he might throw the book at you.

Possession of a controlled substance? Domestic violence? That's you. You all right, honey? What other random myriad of fucking misdemeanors is gonna come to light while you're drawing out in the slammer? Failure to appear? Bench warrants? Come on. And because I'm the only one that actually isn't driving with a suspended license, I'll be driving your gals home. So who lives closer? Uh, bad skin muffin-top, or Red Bull semen breath?

Crackpots. Those I can persuade to swallow their own tongue. Anyone who's seen a Sasquatch. Moon-landing deniers. Those are our people.

Well what I'm doing for the guy who likes to bluff is I'm playing a little game called "Am I Bluffing?"

Where is she? Where the fuck is Harmony? You want to play hardball? I can do that.

Yes, they are. These are damaged goods, every one of them, from way back. I'm telling you, you take a guy who sleeps with 100 women a year, go into his childhood - dollars to doughnuts, it's relatively unspectacular...

… Now, you take one of these… gals, who sleeps with 100 guys a year, and I bet you if you look in their childhood, there's something rotten in Denver.

Denmark.

That too! But it's abandonment, it's abuse, it's, "My uncle put his ping-ping in my papa!"... and then they all come out here!

I mean, it's literally like someone took America by the East Coast and *shook* it, and all the normal girls managed to hang on.

Yeah, boo, hiss, I know. Look, I hate it too. In movies where the studio gets all paranoid about a downer ending so the guy shows up, he's magically alive on crutches, I hate that. I mean shit, why not bring them all back?

But the point is in this case, this time, it really happened. Perry, like, lived. Yeah, it's a dumb movie thing, but what do you want me to do, lie about it?

She had something, that gal tonight, this quality. You know, like the girl from high school, the one that got away that - you know what I mean? - that haunts you still.

Thank god you had a gun in there; for a second I thought it was like a gay thing, like, somehow you guys could do that

No. You'll try, and that little experiment will end in tears, my friend. So, again for the cheap seats, do not think, walk the fuck away - or let's you and me go outside right now. It's past my bedtime. Make a choice.

Anyway, by now you may wonder how I wound up here. Or, maybe not. Maybe you wonder how silly putty picks shit up from comic books. The point is, I don't see another Goddamn narrator, so pipe down.

Don't worry, I saw Lord of the Rings. I'm not going to end this 17 times.

And that's how she got to the same party as me. Oh shit. I skipped something. Damn it. This whole robot bit. I made a big deal, then I like totally forgot. Fuck, this is bad narrating. Like my dad telling a joke. "Oh, wait back up. I forgot to tell you the cowboy rode a blue horse." Fuck. Anyway, I don't know if you want to see it now, but here's the fucking robot stuff for your viewing pleasure. Can I say "fuck" more?

I sent Harmony home believing A, we'd meet tomorrow to go over her case, and B, I'm not actually gay. Please do not ask me how I did B.

For a reason. For a reason? Why? Because I fall off a building, 10 people in Baltimore survive a bus crash? Swell, they're enjoying Baltimore. I'm lying here with my brains out.

I tell him about destiny; he's shaking his head. About dreamgirls; he doesn't care. I mention the underwear thing? He has a *fucking conniption*. And you? How 'bout it, filmgoer? Have you solved the case of the - the dead people in L.A.? Times Square audiences, please don't shout at the screen, and stop picking at that, it'll just get worse.

You remember the one I said that got away, yeah well that one was her. It all came flooding back how I was the one she confided in, the one she trusted, meanwhile she was doing every other guy in school. It was the first time I felt it, how pitying someone and wanting to fuck them can get all tangled up in your head... overwhelming sadness while having a rodney. Is that sick? Hm yeah, I think that's sick...

And yeah, looking back, I maybe should've said something, told her I wasn't really a nipple - DETECTIVE, detective. Uhm, sorry...

Its hard to believe it was just last Christmas that Harmony and I changed the world. And we didn't mean to and it didn't last long. You know a thing like that can't.

Guy smoking that's Dabney Shaw my producer. He discovered me. The man with him is Perry van Shrike, a.k.a. Gay Perry. Honest-to-God private eye consulting film, tv, just incorporated. He's big time. Also he's gay.