Fresh Monologues

Death and violence anger a twelve-year-old drug courier, who sets his employers against each other.

You're over an hour late. I passed up two easy fish waiting here for you. That makes me poorer by two dollars.

Not playing games here, got no time for that. Life's got no time for your little boy games. Leave all that nonsense at home when you come here.

Alright, gonna put it on speed today. I ain't stopping to give you any little tips either. You sink or swim on your own today, cause I'm not always gonna be there to hold your hand for ya.

Alright, you ready for the real thing? You read to come get it? You ready to come take it from your old man, you ready to be the king?

Anything lost can be found again, except for time wasted.

You're playing each piece like losing it hurts. This ain't checkers. You want my king, you got to come get my king. All these other pieces are just the means to do it.

Your queen is just a pawn with some fancy moves, nothing more.

Good, it's better. Still gonna kick your ass, but it's better.

Chess ain't fun, boy, how many times do I gotta tell you that? Don't you listen to a word I say?

Well you don't, so you be well served to retain some of the knowledge I'm imparting to you, rather than giving me all this hard ass street attitude bullshit.