Kiss Kiss Bang Bang Monologues

After being mistaken for an actor, a New York thief is sent to Hollywood to train under a private eye for a potential movie role, but the duo are thrown together with a struggling actress into a murder mystery.

My $2000 ceramic Vektor my mother got me as a special gift. You threw in the lake next to the car. What happens when they drag the lake? You think they'll find my pistol. Jesus. Look up "idiot" in the dictionary. You know what you'll find?

No! The definition of the word idiot, which you fucking are!

Gloves. Do you have gloves? You have to move her. If it's a frame-up, some asshole's probably calling the cops on you right now. Do this: wrap up the body in a blanket, a sheet, anything.

You don't get it, do you? This isn't "good cop, bad cop." This is fag and New Yorker. You're in a lot of trouble.

Thanks for coming, please stay for the end credits, if you're wondering who the best boy is, it's somebody's nephew, um, don't forget to validate your parking, and to all you good people in the Midwest, sorry we said fuck so much.

I want you to picture a bullet in your head. Can you do that for me?

Harmony was right, her sister was murdered. You pulled the trigger. It just took this long for the bullet to hit.

She opens the door, and she got nothing on but the radio. Yeah, invites me to sit down, sits on my lap, fires up a spliff.

Because its only good for a couple shots, then you gotta drop it for something better. You asked, Chief.

Well, I was going to go to the zoo, but it was closed, so I thought I'd come here and look at an animal.

No. You buried her twenty years ago. Harmony was right, her sister was murdered. You pulled the trigger. It just took this long for the bullet to hit.

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.