M. Gustave Monologues

You see, there are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity. Indeed that’s what we provide in our own modest, humble, insignificant… oh, fuck it.

You’re looking so well, darling, you really are… they’ve done a marvelous job. I don’t know what sort of cream they’ve put on you down at the morgue, but… I want some.

Rudeness is merely an expression of fear. People fear they won’t get what they want. The most dreadful and unattractive person only needs to be loved, and they will open up like a flower.

Keep your hands off my lobby boy!

What happened, my dear Zero, is I beat the living shit out of a sniveling little runt called Pinky Bandinski, who had the gall to question my virility. Because, if there’s one thing we’ve learned from penny dreadfuls, it’s that when you find yourself in a place like this, you must never be a candy ass; you’ve got to prove yourself from day one. You’ve got to win their respect. You should take a long look at HIS ugly mug this morning.

I knew there was something fishy. We never got the cause of death. She’s been murdered, and you think I did it.

I must say, I find that girl utterly delightful. Flat as a board, enormous birthmark the shape of Mexico over half her face, sweating for hours on end in that sweltering kitchen, while Mendl, genius though he is, looms over her like a hulking gorilla. Yet without question, without fail, always and invariably, she’s exceedingly lovely.

Mmm, I’ve had older. When you’re young, it’s all filet steak, but as the years go by, you have to move on to the cheap cuts. Which is fine with me, because I like those. More flavorful, or so they say.

Well, what does it say? Where is it? What’s it all about, damn it? Don’t keep us in suspense, Serge, this has been a complete fucking nightmare! Just tell us what the fuck is going on!

If I die first, and I almost certainly will, you will be my sole heir. There’s not much in the kitty, except a set of ivory-backed hairbrushes and my library of romantic poetry, but when the time comes, these will be yours. Along with whatever we haven’t already spent on whores and whiskey.

The beginning of the end of the end of the beginning has begun. A sad finale played off-key on a broken-down saloon piano in the outskirts of a forgotten ghost town. I’d rather not bear witness to such blasphemy.

This is van Hoytl’s exquisite portrayal of a beautiful boy on the cusp of manhood. Blond, smooth skin as white as that milk, of impeccable provenance. One of the last in private hands, and unquestionably the best. It’s a masterpiece. The rest of this shit is worthless junk.

How does one come by front row aisle seats for a first night at the Opera Toscana with one day’s notice? How does one arrange a private viewing of the tapestry collection at the Royal Saxon Gallery? How does one secure a corner table at Chez Dominique on a Thursday?

Ivan, darling, it’s Gustave, hello!… Well, I was until about five minutes ago. We’ve taken it upon ourselves to clear out in a hurry, if you see what I mean… Well, through a sewer, as it happens… Exactly! Listen, Ivan, I’m sorry to cut you off, but we’re in a bit of a bind. This is an official request. I’m formally calling on the special services of…

What is a lobby boy? A lobby boy is completely invisible, yet always in sight. A lobby boy remembers what people hate. A lobby boy anticipates the client’s needs before the needs are needed. A lobby boy is, above all, discreet to a fault. Our guests know that their deepest secrets, some of which are frankly rather unseemly, will go with us to our graves. So keep your mouth shut, Zero.

I miss you deeply as I write from the confines of my regrettable and preposterous incarceration. Until I walk amongst you again as a free man, the Grand Budapest remains in your hands, as does its impeccable reputation. Keep it spotless, and glorify it. Take extra-special care of every little bitty bit of it as if I were watching over you like a hawk with a horse-whip in its talons, because I am. Should I discover a lapse of any variety during my absence, I promise swift and merciless justice will descend upon you. A great and noble house has been placed under your protection. Tell Zero if you see any funny business.

I was perhaps for a time considered the best lobby boy we ever had at the Grand Budapest. I think I can say that. This one finally surpassed me. Although I must say, I am an exceptional teacher.

Honestly, you forgot the L’air de Panache? I don’t believe it. I mean, how could you? I’ve been in jail, Zero! Do you understand how humiliating this is? I smell! That’s just marvelous, isn’t it? I suppose this is to be expected back in… Where do you come from again?

Precisely. I suppose this is to be expected back in Aq-Salim-al-Jabat, where one’s prized possessions are a stack of filthy carpets and a starving goat, and one sleeps behind a tent flap and survives on wild dates and scarabs. But it’s not how I trained you! What on God’s earth possessed you to leave the homeland where you obviously belong and travel unspeakable distances to become a penniless immigrant in a refined, highly-cultivated society that, quite frankly, could’ve gotten along very well without you?

Well, I suppose I’d better take back everything I just said. What a bloody idiot I am. Pathetic fool. Goddamn, selfish bastard. This is disgraceful, and it’s beneath the standards of the Grand Budapest. I apologize on behalf of the hotel.

There’s really no point in doing anything in life because it’s all over in the blink of an eye, and the next thing you know, rigor mortis sets in.

Now wait a minute, sit down, Zero. His papers are in order, I crossed referenced them myself with The Bureau of Labor and Servitude. You can’t arrest him simply because he’s a bloody immigrant, he hasn’t done anything wrong!

The beginning of the end of the end of the beginning has begun. A sad finale played off-key on a broken-down saloon piano in the outskirts of a forgotten ghost town. I’d rather not bear witness to such blasphemy.

The Grand Budapest has become a troops’ barracks. I shall never cross its threshold again in my lifetime.

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