Acting I

You had your chance to talk last night. I begged you to come upstairs with me. I was looking for romance and instead I got a petrified woman standing in my doorway. I never want to hear the sound of your voice again, do you understand?
*suddenly sees petrified woman*
*outbreaks at "voice"*


There's a key to the back door. Stick to the hallway and your room and you won't get hurt.
*talks like she's a dog or visitor, like a ghost idea*
*like Beauty & the Beast*


Not in my apartment. I don't want to see you. Cover the mirrors when you walk through the house. And I'm sick and tired of smelling your cooking. I've had it up to here with your polyunsaturated oils. Now get that spaghetti off of my table.
*toilet room in dream*
*mirrors like jewelry revealing explicit material*
*softens at cooking and polyunsaturated oils*
*spaghetti like @ Disney that is gone!*


What the hell's so funny about it?


(pasta hurled)
Now it's garbage!!


I like it.
*crossly, contradicting*


You touch one strand of that linguini and I'll break every sinus in your head.
*"insane," manic*


I'll tell you exactly what it is. It's the cooking, the cleaning and the crying. It's the moose calls that open your ears at two o'clock in the morning. I can't take it anymore, Florence, I'm cracking up. Everything you do irritates me. And when you're not here, the things I know you're going to do when you come in irritate me ... You leave me little notes on my pillow. "We're all out of corn flakes. F.U." ... It took me three hours to figure out that F.U. was Florence Unger ... It's no one's fault, Florence. We're just a rotten pair.
*raises eyebrow @ F.U.*
*ecstatic @ 3 hours of blank*


That's just the frame. The picture I haven't even painted yet ... Every night in my diary I write down the things you did that day that aggravate me ... This is June and so far I filled up till January ... And I haven't even put down the Gaspacho Brothers yet.
*into space*
*like Anne Frank*


What sex life? I can't even have dirty dreams. You come in and clean them up.
*earnest, no sex life!*


Don't point that finger at me unless you intend to use it.
*violent, eyes bulging*


What's this? A display of temper? I haven't seen you really angry since the day I dropped my eyelashes in your pancake batter.
*thinking @ the past, crossly*


I'm trembling all over. Look how I'm trembling all over.
*like My Fair Lady, sits down in chair, "without you--*


... If I've just been told off, I think I may have missed it.
*insane*


Good.


I see.


Is that so?


Is that it?


What is that, a Cole Porter song?
*staring at her like she's weird, in lala land*


Good. Because now I'm going to tell -you- off ... For eight months, I've lived all alone in this apartment. I thought I was miserable. I thought I was lonely. I took you in here because I thought we could help each other ... And after three weeks of close, personal contact, I have hives, shingles and the heartbreak of psoriasis ... I am growing old at twice the speed of sound ... I have seven new liver spots on my hand that look like the Big Dipper ... I can't take any more, Florence ... Do me a favor and move into a kitchen. Live with your pots, your pans, your ladle and your meat thermometer ... I'm going inside to lie down now ... My teeth are coming lose and I'm afraid if I drop them in here, you'll get out your vacuum cleaner again.
*as if no one was even listening!..*


In the kitchen! I want to get your head in the oven and cook it like a capon.
*not feeling well..*


It's no use running, Florence. There's only six rooms and I know all the shortcuts.
*threateningly*