Not Like Yesterday

Marvin, 32, pushes open a screen door and steps onto his porch. His is skinny and a bit unhealthy looking, wearing a bathrobe and sandals. He takes a sip from his mug of coffee and peers off into the day.

Marvin: Time to fuck this day in the ass. Time to take this fuckin day, an’ jus’, like, set her over the kitchen sink and give her a good ass-fucking. Jus’…DOMINATE her.

Not like yesterday. Yesterday fucked YOU. Jus’ had her way with you in an inappropriate and public way. Oh yeah…fuck. You gotta call a couple people this morning…make some much-needed apologies. After your morning coffee, though. Jus’ give yourself a moment.

Yeah, you fucked up yesterday. Started drankin at like…what was it…? Noon? Yeah…no, it was 11:30. Don’t give yourself that half hour. Remember correctly and without forgiveness. That’s something you do, y’know…remembering incorrectly for your own benefit.

I hope Aubrey forgives you…I mean, she HAS, plenty of time before. I don’t see how this time would be any different…unless it’s the prophetic straw that broke the camel’s back…probably not though.

That’s not the fuckin point, though. [ejects air out of his mouth disdainfully]…look at you, relying on others’ compassion…it’s YOUR behavior, YOUR doing, and it’s about time YOU took responsibility for your actions.

Sip of café…coffee, jus’ say coffee, you’re probably pronouncing it wrong. OK, OK…first things first…well, after the coffee…we’re going to call Aubrey and beg our forgiveness. THROW ourselves on her compassion. After that we gotta figure out this potential contracting job…need some dough, GOD, I need some dough…the electric bill is overdue, one, and you’re getting low on food. Whadda they call that, food insecurity?…well, it’s your own fault, anyway.

You started yesterday with high aspirations, but then something happened…something…it doesn’t matter what, it was just something in your own head. SOMETHING happened, and you got all depressed, and then you jus’ HAD to have a drink. Went downhill from there.

THAT is really your problem. You hafta figure out different ways to deal with your…with your whatever. Instead of just looking to the bottle. That’s what NORMAL, HEALTHY people do. They figure out an action, or something in their environment that will improve their mood, and they jus’ do that.

And then they feel better. Jus’ like you do when you drink.

An’ you convince yourself you can handle it, that you can continue with your day with a smile on your face, that you’re a FUNCTIONAL….a functional, like drinker.

It all goes to shit once you get a buzz on, though.

I kinda want a little buzz now, but NO…no…Whatever happened to plowing this day up the butt?…it’s still there, still there. Drink your coffee. Drink it and wish there was whiskey in it.

WHY…did you say that? You gonna fuck this up for me? [sighs] Just calm down and drink your non-Irish café…coffee, whatever.

It’s jus’ so hard when you get depressed and the voices start up…Mixed state, that social worker called it. Not that she knows or gives a shit…that’s not the point, that’s not the point AGAIN…the point is, you can’t rely on that fake-science shit. Gotta survive on your own. Like a man.

I jus’ wish you didn’t get those fuckin voices. They tear you up. Meaner than any person in the REAL world has ever been to you.

Fuckin idiot. Talkin about that shit. You’re jus’ gonna make yourself depressed and angry an’ GO down that path again. Man the fuck up.

Calmness…calmness, Marvin…don’t be a moron…actually, don’t be calm, you gotta lotta shit to do. You shouldn’t be fuckin lazing around. Dickhead.

That’s another one of your problems. I hate to say it Marvin…no, I actually don’t hate to say it, but…You. Are. Lazy. Jus’ fuckin lazy. If you were more driven, maybe your life wouldn’t be so fucked up. Maybe Aubrey would actually respect you instead of jus’ treating you like a problem.

You are a fuckin problem; don’ bring Aubrey into it, it is YOUR fault your life is like this…the fuck-in MESS that it is. Food Insecurity? Are you fuckin’ serious? Like you’re some immigrant single mother raising three kids in the barrio?…please…fuckin’ food insecurity.

If you’re hungry, it’s your fault. Coulda moved that lumber yesterday, coulda made like, fifty bucks, but YOU, YOU Marvin, decided to get drunk.

God, I wish I had a fuckin drink. (Shut the fuck up Marvin you fuckin alcoholic) Great.

Y’know what? Here’s the fuckin conclusion I’m coming to: (Conclusions, Marvin? You think you’re a fuckin scientist or something?) You deserve those voices. Why else would they be there? They’re YOU after all, you’re not schizophrenic. (Betcha wish you were though. Wouldn’t THAT be a convenient excuse?)

Calm down. (Fuck you). Calm DOWN. (Fuck YOU, weakling. Pussy. You think you deserve calmness? All you deserve is the shit life you’ve created for yourself.)  You can dig yourself outta your shit life though..maybe? (Didn’t I just CONFIRM you were a pussy? I know. I’m here all the time, so of course I know. You are incapable of improving anything, because you know you deserve the life you’ve created.)

Whatever happened to fucking the day in the ass? (Shut the fuck up. Pathetic. I hate when you say shit like that. Loser. When you whine about what may have come. Let me let you in onna little secret: it ain’t gonna come. Ever.)

God, I need a drink.

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