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(Perry is slouched in a chair on the Mansion's porch, despondent. He looks grim, as is his wont when unhappy, and has a hand over his forehead. The lights are focused entirely on him.)
I realise this is stupid, but I hope it's not entirely unexpected--I'm not happy. There's nothing to do here. It makes me tired. There's a paradox for you. I even miss my mother. I miss her fucking around in the kitchen making relentlessly Jewish food and playing her stereotype role like she loves it. I even miss my dad.
The days are too nice here, the summer's too temperate. Our anniversary is coming up and it's not hot like it is at Gregory's, so hot you want to get a drink, pour it on your head, and die with scotch and soda running down your collar. It's not like that here.
I want to go home. Don't tell Artie. I think I hear him rummaging around somewhere. He seems fine...
(The lights come up.)
I realise this is stupid, but I hope it's not entirely unexpected--I'm not happy. There's nothing to do here. It makes me tired. There's a paradox for you. I even miss my mother. I miss her fucking around in the kitchen making relentlessly Jewish food and playing her stereotype role like she loves it. I even miss my dad.
The days are too nice here, the summer's too temperate. Our anniversary is coming up and it's not hot like it is at Gregory's, so hot you want to get a drink, pour it on your head, and die with scotch and soda running down your collar. It's not like that here.
I want to go home. Don't tell Artie. I think I hear him rummaging around somewhere. He seems fine...
(The lights come up.)